The Immortal Haemovore's Cookbook
by SharKohen
Summary: How to Prepare 'High School': 1 ounce of School Projects, 1 cup of Controlling Family, 2 tablespoons of Bossy Girls. Also, a dash of Immortality, a perpetual Thirst for Blood and a bucketload of Random Peeps trying to Kill you (adjust to taste). Mix together to achieve the life of one Jack F. Guardian. Modern TeenVampireAU. Jelsa. Some ROBTFD characters ... & Recipes.
1. Chapter 1

The Immortal Haemovore's Cookbook

~~~0~~~

 _Blodplattar, or Blood Pancakes (by Sandy)_

 _Ingredients:_

 _1.5 cups of all purpose flour_

 _1 cups of pig blood (fresh preferred)_

 _3 teaspoons baking powder_

 _1 tablespoon white sugar_

 _Salt to taste_

 _1 cup of milk_

 _3 tablespoons of Olive Oil_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Sift together the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar into a bowl. Make a well in the centre and pour in blood, milk and olive oil. Whisk till smooth and even._

 _2)Add olive oil to heated pan and spread it evenly. Scoop batter onto the pan, with each scoop around a quarter cup size per pancake._

 _3)Flip pancake after 1 minute. Check for browning on both sides._

 _4)Serve hot with molasses, chocolate sauce or blood jam (see page 23)._

~~~0~~~

He woke up to the curtains being yanked apart. "Sun's up, sunshine!"

Immediately, his skin burned. The sensation of UV rays passing through the windows onto his flesh was akin to having one's hand roasting on over an open fire - that was, if one's hand was a human hand.

The victim of the assault ducked under the covers immediately to shield himself from the light. With the blankets held over his head, his keen eyes searched immediately for the culprit who was cackling in the shadows. At side of the closet, he spotted him, hoodie over his head and hands clad with gloves, down to the trousers. The only thing not protected was his bare feet.

"You!" he growled at the unrepentant sinner. "Wait till I get my hands on you!"

The boy laughed before darting out of the bedroom, too fast for the sunlight to hit his feet. Snorting, Bunny scowled as he wrapped the blanket around himself, groggily trying to work out how he was going to get out of bed without smelling like barbecue for the rest of the day.

The cheeky little bugger himself was chuckling all the way down the corridor, throwing his head over his shoulder every now and then just to make sure that he was being followed. Grabbing his backpack from the wall-hook that he had left it on, he leap up and flew himself down the stairs, laughing all the way. When he hit the living room, he dropped back to his feet, grinning as he smelled the cooking from the kitchen.

Sure enough, his suspicions of the dish in question was confirmed when he saw the cook. "Mornin', Sandy! How ya doin'?"

The small man glanced up from the stove before flashing a small at the white-haired teen. He waved the cooking spatula, before making a few small gestures with his free hand to indicate that he was fine and that breakfast was almost ready.

"Splendid," Jack beamed back, rubbing his tummy in relish. "I'm absolutely hungry."

"You seem bright and perky today, Jack," another voice piped in. Its tone sounded disapproving, but the boy knew it well enough that it was too laced with affection. He spun his head towards the young woman at the door of refrigerator. He watched her slender form draw back as she removed to a long pitcher, kicking the door shut with the back of her heel while her grabbing a jar from the shelf next to it. "If I didn't know better, I would think that it was a vacation time."

"Oh, please," Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Vacation's boring unless we go camping. No, -" he chuckled, shaking his head, "-let's just say that I grilled some rabbit this morning."

Sure enough, an agonized scream was heard from upstairs, followed by a loud threat riddled in profanity after profanity. The boy was completely undaunted by the whole tirade though, dropping into his chair and resting his head on his palm. "Ah, these things make life worth living."

"Jack," the woman was disapproving, even as she poured him a glass of him a full glass of ice blood tea - his favourite morning beverage.

"Tooth," he mockingly imitated her tone while reaching for the cookie jar. As he helped himself to the confectionary, he noticed a large figure emerge from the door. "Mornin', North."

"Good morning, young Jack," the large older man replied, yawning while scratching his beard. "You certainly seem enthused about school today."

"Not school," both Jack and Tooth said simultaneously as another of Bunny's yowls echoed through the house.

"Ah," North nodded as he acknowledged the background noise, neither approving nor disapproving. "So, what's for breakfast?"

He got his answer in the form of a 'clack' as Sandy dropped a plate of pancakes in front of him, with each thin slice rolled into a roll. A dozen or more rolls sat on North's plate, stacked like a mini-pyramid. North let out a heart chortle as he rubbed his hands. " _Vkusno!_ Well done, Sanderson."

Sandy dipped his nod, making a small salute sign as he began loading up another plate of aromatic blodplattars, rolling the thin slices up as he did. Outside the kitchen, the clambering of feet was heard before an infuriated Bunny appeared at the door, countenance sour and skin still smoking.

"Oh, no. Bunny," Tooth gasped sympathetically as she saw the burns that ran from his forearms down to his legs. On the other end of the table, both North and Jack were snickering away, with the latter not trying very hard to hide his obvious enjoyment of his housemate's distress.

"It'll fade off soon enough," the tall muscular fellow waved away the concerned hands of the woman. "And when it does-" he made a crushing action with his hands while glaring at Jack.

The white-haired lad only grinned, gesturing at the seat by his side. "C'mon, fuzzball, can't you take a joke?"

"Why don't I hang garlic above your bed tonight and see how you like it?" Bunny muttered, though he took the seat anyway.

"Boys, boys," Tooth chided as she poured tea into Bunny's glass. "Can't you just get along?"

Jack snorted as Sandy brought more plates of pancake towers to the table. "Where's the fun in that?"

 _"Fun, fun, fun,"_ Bunny sneered, slamming a knife straight through the pancake pyramid that Sandy put in front of him. "That's the only word that goes through that tiny brain of yours."

"At least I have a brain."

"You sure? How about we crack open your skull to find out?"

"Boys, boys!" Tooth slammed her water flask down on the table with a bit more force than necessary, making all the plates jump up at the force and the glasses dance on the surface.

Fortunately, gravity was quick to fix the situation and the pancakes, tea and other assorted equipment returned to where they were meant to be, though some cutlery fell off the table. The flask itself earned a crack on its base and the tea starting to leak through it. Sandy, ever the efficient one, had already produced another flask from the cupboard and took the cracked one from Tooth, before heading over to the sink to save the reminder of the liquid.

The girl beamed gratefully at him, then frowned at the two younger men sitting at the table.

Jack was the cheeky one who piped in, "What?"

The creases on her forehead deepened as she put her hands on her waist. "You almost made me waste a perfectly good lot of blood - that's what!"

"Not my fault you're got a temper."

"Ev'ryone in this house has a bloomin' temper," murmured North, who had been quietly eating his pancakes thus far. He shoved a particularly large mouthful – consisting three rolls - into his mouth, chomping down emphatically.

" Look." Tooth took had returned to a visage of calm, though her lips were still twitching in annoyance. "We're in a bit of a dry run the last few weeks. I know we're not as hydrated as we'd liked to be, and that might make us grouchy-" her gaze tilted towards Bunny, making Jack snicker "-or unreasonably childish-" then Jack's laughter stopped "-but remember, don't take it out on each other. We've been living together for the last two centuries, for goodness' sake!" She was about slam her fist on the table, but checked herself, making herself smiling in a controlled manner instead. "So, what we will do is eat our pancakes, do the dishes and go to work, like any ordinary family." She clapped her hands together. "Is that clear?"

There was no answer, only the clacking of cutlery against plates and the sound of Jack slurping on his iced tea.

Tooth cleared her throat, displeased. "I said - it's that clear?"

"Yes, Tooth."

"Crystal, m'am."

" _Da_."

And thumbs up from Sandy, who didn't even turn around to look at them.

Tooth seemed sufficiently satisfied with the response and slipped herself into the chair to begin eating her pancakes. Sandy by then had turned off the stove and too sat himself at the table, his own plate in hand. In centre of table, a bottle of molasses and a jar of blood jam stood for anyone to help themselves to. The conversation, initiated by North, then veered to more pleasant topics like the headline news, the weather forecast and activities that they had planned for the day.

"I've received a letter from Manny last weekend," North told them just as he swept his last morsel around the plate, catching the last of the jam onto it before popping it into his mouth.

"Is he coming to visit?" Bunny asked. His anger had been quelled for now, though no one amongst them was foolish enough to assume that he would not get back at Jack for his crime later. "It's been a while, after all."

The big man shook his head sadly. "Ah, you know Manny. All the work with the big council keep him busy all the time. He sends his best regards to everyone. Ah, he congratulates you on your promotion, Tooth." He nodded at the young woman, who beamed at this message. "Says that he's very proud of you."

"Well, it is pretty exciting to be moving up the corporate ladder," Tooth said while slicing a bite-size bit of pancake to eat. "Back in the forties, I couldn't get past being receptionist."

"Urgh, the forties." Bunny shuddered, hairs on his arms bristling at the thought. "Wish we hadn't stayed in London then. We were so close to getting exposed, thanks to some idiot-" he glared at the boy sitting next to him "-who wanted to play hero."

"Relax." Jack scoffed. "They thought my skin pallor indicated disease. They marked me off almost immediately."

"You could have ruined everything. The battlefield is temptation. I admit - the bodies full of blood are wasted left rotting there, but the risk of exposure is far too great. Of course,-" Bunny made a jeering face "-I bet you didn't even consider it."

When the white-haired lad frowned this time, it was genuine. His answer was soft. "I just wanted to do my part. Like all the other normal guys."

Tooth clacked the back of her fork against the table. "Stop talking about war. Now, Sandy,-" she turned to the little mute man of their company "-tell us about the school that you're teaching at."

So in gestures, Sandy explained about the special school that he was teaching in, and soon breakfast was over. It was North's turn to the dishes and he did so while humming a Russian folk song over the rushing of the water. Bunnymund cleaned the table and Tooth brought out the lunches, reading the labels.

"Yours, Sandy." She handed out to the little man, who thanked her with a smile before shuffling out the kitchen. "This one's Bunny's - I mixed the carrots into it, so it looks like a tomato dressing. North, yours need to be heated before eating. Jack-" she held the last bag out to the youngest member of their crew "-how's eating with people coming?"

"Okay," Jack said, as he took the paper carrier in his hand. "I always sink my teeth into the burger before anyone sees my incisors, so everything's peachy."

"Let me check them."

"No, Tooth, I have to,-"

"Please, Jack?"

He sighed. It had been a dream of Tooth's to become a dentist since the job was first invented. The problem was that dentistry was a 'high-risk' job - bleeding gums, fractured teeth, bruising and so forth, and near the neck area too. Getting triggered into hyper-kill mode would only be a matter of time, and it was agreed that it was best not to tempt fate. That's why Tooth was wasting her time in a bank office instead, staring at numbers and answering customer complaints. "Alright."

"Yay!" She practically pried his jaw open before he could say anything else and he could feel her fingers running over his molars as she enthusiastically counted them off, "The incisor, canine, premolar, molar - all as white as snow as always. You keep your teeth brilliantly, dear."

 _"Thaa-kiyyaaa,"_ was all that could come out of his mouth with the way she was forcing it open. She did finally release him, letting his rub his jaw in annoyance as he prepared to leave.

Of course, Tooth did grab him one last time. "Remember, Jack. Stay safe. Avoid sports. If anyone bleeds,-" she gripped his arms tight so that he would pay attention "-run. Run, as far as you can and drink from the emergency bottle, okay?"

The emergency bottle was a large vacuum flask that he always kept at the bottom of his bag. It contained fresh blood, which had to be changed everyday to keep the contents from going stale. If he didn't use it, it would be served for dinner that night, as not to waste. Stocking up the blood supply was always hard, so every drop counted.

Jack then realised that he hadn't answered Tooth yet, so he nodded.

"Good boy. Have a great day, Jack." She planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Thanks, mum." He grinned at her before skipping out of the kitchen.

Tooth, naturally, was furious. "Take that back, young man! I'm only a hundred and twenty years older than you!"

~~~0~~~

"I swear that Weselton has it out for me."

"Well, with the way you keep correcting him, I'm not surprised."

Burgess High School was as average a suburban high school as one ever could get, and it was so frightening unremarkable that Jack would have never attended it if it wasn't for Burgess' unusally cloudy weather.

Class was over and the good mood that he had after pranking Bunny had evaporated thanks to the harrowing day that followed. There had been biology lab that day. Even though the session had been all about boiling leaves and looking at them under the microscope, some idiot had to cut his finger on the glass slide. Naturally, Jack had excused himself to the bathroom without waiting for the teacher's permission, locked himself in the cubicle and drained the contents from the emergency bottle.

It took him an hour to calm himself down and by the time he had returned, biology class had ended and he was late for history. Professor Weselton, the history teacher, was not pleased with this and gave him an hour of detention. After they started going through lessons about life in 19th Century London, Jack naturally had to open his big yap and point out all the errors in the textbook, the slides and half of the things that Weselton said. To put the cherry on the icing, Jack had also remarked that Weselton's Ph.D. was about as fake as his toupee.

He earned detention for an entire month.

"Oh, by the way, I wanted to pass this to you." Hiccup had also been in detention that day for breaking way too many vials in chemistry class, so both of them had kept each other company through the boring two-hour period of zoning out. The freckled young man pulled out a small envelope from his bag and handed it to Jack. Expression thoughtfully, Jack opened it up, to find a fancy card that read,

 _'You are cordially invited to the Wedding of HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK THE THIRD and ASTRID HOFFERSON. Dress Code: Viking-Themed. Duh.'_

"Oh, congratulations. Again. This is like-"Jack paused to count off his fingers "-wedding number four?"

"Five," Hiccup coughed, eyes darting nervously to at the other students around them. Fortunately, no one seemed interested in their conversation.

"How old were you guys when you both got cursed again?" Jack asked, admiring the little engraving border around the card. It was a cute touch.

"Me? Eighteen. Astrid was-" now it was Hiccup's turn to count off his fingers "-nineteen."

"She's older than you? Hmm." Jack made a scoffing sound.

"It's not a big deal after you've spent this long together," the other boy protested as they both moved towards their lockers. "Anyway, the weddings are more of anniversaries. The only reason why we call them 'weddings' because it's hard to explain to the hotel manager why you're celebrating your ninety-eighth wedding anniversary when you look, at best, twenty-two."

Jack scrunched his face up. "Why do you even need a hotel?"

"Variation. The last one was at the beach," Hiccup explained as he dropped the unnecessary books into the shelves. "The one before that was on a cruise. The real wedding was actually a small ceremony in the frigid Norwegian winter." Hiccup shivered as he recalled the event. "It was pretty nasty. Considering the bad omen, I'm surprised we've lasted this long."

"Well, I'll see if I can make it," Jack said as he tucked the envelope into his bag. "My family doesn't exactly like the idea of us hanging out considering the differences in-" he made a vague gesture "-well, you know."

"Yeah. My folks are honestly not too keen either," admitted the other boy as he slammed the metal door shut. "Astrid doesn't mind anymore, though. She liked you ever since you dropped a dead gazelle at our doorstep."

"Oh?" Jack too shut his locker door, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "So, it was tasty?"

"Yes, actually. The lack of blood made it easier to swallow. Anyway-" Hiccup glanced at the watch on his hand "- I have to go. Wedding - I mean, anniversary stuff - to settle. Catch up with you some time?"

"Sure. No hurry." He waved to Hiccup as the other boy hurried off, adding in a lower tone to himself, "It's not as if we don't have decades to chat about our lives."

"Excuse me?" He spun around to find himself greeted by a young girl - sophomore, perhaps - beaming at him. She probably hadn't heard the conversation by her appearance. Good. "Hi, I'm Anna Arendelle. Part of the Social Awareness Student Society, or SASS for short." Her hand shot out towards him.

Jack took the hand slowly, shaking it also slowly. "Hi?"

The girl still had the smile, as if it had been glued there. "I'm just here to share about an event that we're doing next month." A flyer was pressed firmly in his hand with no chance of refusal. "We're running a blood donation drive in conjunction with Burgess National Hospital. It's a pretty big deal, because we've finally gotten the approval to project after like six months. Ha." She paused, for dramatic effect or taking a breath, Jack didn't know.

Just as abruptly, she resumed. "Our target is to get a five hundred units of blood - that is, to get at least five hundred students from our school to donate. It seems a bit like a tall order at this point, I know, and we haven't done this before. Also, only people above seventeen can donate, which makes the job harder for us on a high school level, but hey, I believe that we can do great things if we-"

Jack wasn't really listening to her. In fact, he had pretty much flushed out anything she had said the word 'blood' had passed her lips.

And then he grinned, saying, "Say, tell me more about your project."

She blinked, surprised. "You're interested to donate?"

"Not really the donate part - health issues, you understand." He brushed that off quickly, getting to the good stuff instead. "I'm more interested in the event itself. I think I'd like to help out. Do you think I could?"

"Wait." The girl blinked again. "What?"

~~~0~~~

 _Black Pudding (by Tooth)_

 _2 cups of fresh pig's blood_

 _2 cups of beef suet_

 _1 cup of oatmeal_

 _1 cups of bread crumbs_

 _1 large onion, finely chopped_

 _1.5 teaspoons of freshly ground black pepper_

 _3 teaspoons of salt_

 _1 cup of milk_

 _1 teaspoon of allspice_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1) Start by preheating the oven and greasing the glass loaf pans._

 _2) In a large bowl, soak bread crumb in milk. Add blood and stir._

 _3) Next, grate the beef suet into the bowl._

 _4) Gradually, add oatmeal and stir._

 _5) Add the chopped onion into mixture._

 _6) Add allspice, salt and pepper._

 _7) Pour the mixture into the glass loaf pans. Ensure that it's only less than two-thirds full._

 _8) Bake in oven for an hour, or until the pudding is full cooked._

 _9) Remove from oven and leave to cool._

 _10) Cut into squares._

 _11) Fry squares in frying pan until the sides are crisp._

 _12) Serve with scallops, as stuffing, in stew, or just eat it plain, the way we usually like it._

~~~0~~~

"Hey, Elsa, got a minute?"

It was an oddly humid, overcastlate afternoon and she was busy drafting yet another email to the Hospital in an empty classroom. There was a lot of issues to sort out – logistics, transport of equipment, the number of medical staff available, and so forth - and dealing with all these had made her temper rather short. She wasn't very pleased when her sister interrupted her train of thought.

Glancing up from her laptop, Elsq angled her head up to Anna in a manner that appeared polite but was really reeking annoyance. "Yes, Anna?"

Anna, fortunately, was oblivious to her displeasure."There's this senior guy who wants to help-"

"Good. Give him a form. Tell him to come back next Thursday." She swung herself back to the computer screen, biting her lip as she ran the words of the email through her head. _'-You cannot expect us to help you run a blood donation drive if you can't pay for the transport of the equipment and staff-'_ – it sounded far too blunt. She needed to round of the edges of it, lest the hospital just give up on them all together. It was such a pain that Burgess National Hospital was located so far away from the school.

"-no, not donate," Anna added hastily, leaning herself forward, plopping her head right above the laptop screen. "Elsa, he wants to help us. He wants to help SASS!"

Elsa paused, lifting her head up to her grinning sister. Her response was sceptical. "Nobody ever wants to help SASS."

She was speaking from experience, of course. During the last three SASS events, they were completely ignored by the student body. Nobody wanted to hear the poaching in South Asia, or learn about how to reduce one's carbon footprint, or learn about the plight of political refugees. Everyone in this small school in this small town was much too interested in only small, unimportant things.

"Well, he does," Anna insisted, tapping her fingers against the desk with emphasis. "He was really interesting in our programme ideas, like he asked me about how we're conducting it, how we're storing the blood, and everything. Elsa,-" she lowered her voice, glancing right and left as if she were afraid of being overheard "- I think we might actually recruit another committee member!"

"All the committee positions have already been taken up, Anna," was her dry response."

Her sister however didn't accept it. "Elsa, other than Kristoff, you and I are the only members of SASS."

Yes, Social Awareness Student Society had only three members, of which she was the president. Did she mention that?

"Yes. I'm the President," Elsa said, hitting the backspace on her email. "You're the publicity and Kristoff's logistics. There – all the spaces are filled."

Anna scoffed at her. "C'mon, you know that's not true. Kristoff has to take the treasury role with logistics, and you know he struggles with counting money. I have to double as publicity and recruitment manager, and you-" she stabbed a finger at the computer "-you're the worst. You take on the jobs of secretary, communications, programmes planner and housecleaning all while working your butt off-" Elsa was about to protest, but Anna kept rambling on "-at a restaurant that serves mediocre Norwegian fare, where you always get wrecked by the customers who hate the food."

In one rare moment, Elsa was dumbstruck.

The brunette girl put her hands together in a pleading, speaking with emphasis,"We could really, really, do with some help, Elsa."

The elder girl sighed, rubbing her forehead as she contemplated her options. Finally, she gave in. "Urgh. Fine."

"Yay! You're the best!" Anna immediately swung her arms around her, squeezing her so hard that the blonde girl for a moment found herself unable to breathe.

"Um-" she gasped "-Anna?"

"Oh, right, no contact. Forgot about that." The girl sheepishly drew herself away, though she didn't seem all that ashamed of what she had just done. "I'll get him settled, don't you worry."

"Thank you." Elsa rolled her shoulders back, as if trying to shake the sensation of the hug off herself as she poised her fingers in front of the laptop, pursing her lips together as she thought of what to write. Just as Anna was about to leave the classroom, it occurred to her to ask, "What's the name of the guy volunteering again?"

"Oh, his name's Jack. Jack-" Anna scrunched her face up as she tried to remember. "Jack Guardian, I think?"

The elder girl's head jerked up instantly. "Wait – Jack F. Guardian?"

But Anna was already gone.

~~~0~~~

 _Blood Tofu (by Bunnymund)_

 _2 Cups of Fresh Pig Blood_

 _1 Teaspoon of Salt_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1) Pour Fresh Pig Blood into a mould – a box-shaped one, or any other pattern you prefer. Wait ten minutes._

 _2) When the blood has coagulated, cut the curd out of the box._

 _3) Add the solidified blood into a pot of boiling water._

 _4) Leave to boil for half an hour. Add salt after fifteen minutes._

 _5) Sieve out blood tofu and serve in soup, sauce or plain._

~~~0~~~

"This is stupid."

"It isn't. It's genius!"

It was Wednesday evening. That meant that Sandy had to stay late at his school, Tooth went out with her friends – whoever they were - and North went to watch the local football team practice. The eldest Guardian - at least, eldest by appearance - wasn't involved in the practice session himself, but he just derived great pleasure from watching them go horribly wrong and laughing every time they started butting heads. It was peculiar that such a charming, gentle giant would find pleasure in such violence, but Tooth had always said there was a part of him that still loved a good brawl, even if he could no longer be part of it.

Anyway, the bottomline was that on Wednesday night, there was only two of them at the Guardian home. Since they knew any attempts to cook a meal would result an overturned table, broken windows and at least one door getting ripped from its hinges, the two young men chose to dine out.

Burgess was not a big town, but it did have couple of restaurants and one favoured by Bunny was the Szechwan Palace. The elder man had travelled more of the world than Jack ever had, and when he said the food at this humble joint offered the real deal Chinese food, the boy had no choice but to believe him.

That, and the restaurant served some pretty exotic dishes that just happened to fit their daily nutritional intake.

"Stealing is wrong."

"Well, I suppose it is," Jack admitted. "But it's better than the alternative."

"In which the alternative is a perfectly good supply of animal blood that we pay for with honest cash?" Bunny argued, crossing his arms.

"No," the boy answered, slightly annoyed. "The alternative that's this town becomes -" he cleared his throat, lowering his voice "-a blood bath."

" _Maoxuewang_ , no garlic, extra blood," the waitress interrupted, as she arrived with two steaming metal bowls in her hand. Both of them went quiet as they allowed her to set them down before them. She paused to lay their chopsticks next to the bowls and announced, "Enjoy."

For a moment, they didn't speak, both diving straight into the food steam in front of them as she walked away. It's been while since they'd eaten, after all.

After swallowing down some noodle with the blood tofu, Jack finally spoke again, "You know it's been ages since we tasted real … well, you know."

Through steaming wafting out of his bowl, his companion stared at him. Then Bunny began, "Jack-"

"I know, I know." The boy rolled his eyes as he scooped up a large portion of the soup and pouring it down his throat. "It's too risky. We could get caught, _etcetera, etcetera_."

"It's not just that, Jack," Bunny hissed, scanning the rest of the restaurant briefly. Their table was in secluded enough a corner for them not to be overheard by others around them, but that didn't mean that he wasn't still going to paranoid. His eyes then returned to Jack, burning so fierce that he could have drilled holes into the boy's head. "You took an oath when you joined us, Jack."

The white-haired boy let out a groan, pressing the blunted end of his chopsticks against his forehead. "I guess I did, didn't I?"

"It's for your own good, you know," Bunny said as he stirred his soup, picking up a piece of blood and chucking it in between his jaw. Humming in delight, his manner became serious once again. "There are others apart from us who go drunk on human blood. I don't need to tell you about what they do – you know it yourself. The taste is addictive. Once you start, it's hard to stop."

"Yes." Old memories from old times surfaced as flashes in his mind, though he quickly banished them by gulping down his soup. "I know."

"We're supposed to be better than that, Jack," the elder man told him firmly as he took the vingear from the sauce tray and dumped almost a tablespoon in. "That's why we're the Guardians. We protect." He stirred the soup with his chopsticks, shrugging at the same time. "It's not the mankind's fault that their blood's so tasty."

"Yes, sir," Jack muttered, disgruntled as he picked the chili pieces out of his bowk.

"Cheer up, mate." As much as Bunny seemed to hate him, there were times that his manner would soften, even become a little sympathetic. "Once the holidays start, we can go camping and get something fresh, not the frozen packs in the fridge or weird package stuff North gets from the Asian market."

"Sure. Looking forward to that." But his gaze was wistfully fixed out of the window.

~~~0~~~

A big, fat, ugly sigh was all she needed to know that something was wrong.

Sure enough, it was followed by - "You were right."

Elsa was curled up in her bed, still typing on her laptop when her sister had dragged her feet into their bedroom, announced her statement and plopped herself facedown on her own bed.

The elder sister halted her task for a moment to look up at Anna, whose countenance was still buried in the mattress. She asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"It means-" Anna didn't move, only lifting her head slightly off the bed so that Elsa could hear her speak "-that no one wants to help SASS."

For some reason, this news struck Elsa particularly hard. On hindsight, she should have expected it. How much interest could a person really have in a society that had only three members and was largely ignored by the rest of the school, staff included?

Yet, she was looking forward to the idea of new member. After all, SASS had existed for a whole year, but recruitment had been dry and only the same old faces appeared each time. What's worst, Elsa was certain that Anna only joined to make her feel better and she dragged Kristoff in because he owed her favour. There had been no progress for so long that any change – even if that change was Jack F. Guardian – would be welcome.

And from what Anna had said, it was clear that the breath of fresh air was not going to happen.

Elsa made a huff, then continued typing on her laptop, except this time with increased vigour. Anna, on the other hand, began talking into the mattress, but nothing she said could be heard, considering her mouth was still pressed against the sheets.

~~~0~~~

"Jack. Flippin'. Guardian."

He gazed up from his blood burger (no one knew that it was blood, of course, except maybe Hiccup. If anyone asked, he was eating tofu. Seriously. The patty looked like a red-coloured tofu) to find a tall blonde girl standing befire him, arms folded and glaring daggers at him. His face lit up, because he knew who she was, and she knew who he was. "Hey, Elsa. That is not what the 'F' stands F-"

She flicked a finger against his forehead, which wasn't really effective in shutting him up, since he just cried out in pain before asking her what she thought she was doing.

"You're a jerk," the girl told him bluntly, before folding her arms again. He noticed that she was wearing teal gloves today, which was fit rather well with the long teal dress she was wearing.

Jack rubbed the afflicted region, wincing as he strove to clarify, "Is this about last time?"

"No, it isn't,"she answered promptly, expression unreadable as she slipped onto the bench in front of him. "Though getting stood up on a date was hurtful and also a huge waste of time, I got over it. No, my problem is that you-" before he realised what was happening, she leaned forward, a gloved finger snapping against his forehead once again, making him cry out "-told my sister that you'd join the Social Awareness Student Society, and then after that backed out."

"Well, sorry," he hissed out, rubbing his smart skin. Then he stopped short, eyes widening. "Oh man, 'hurtful'? Oh, um, I-"

"As said, I'm over it," she snapped, moving swiftly back to topic. "What I'm here to do is to convince you to join SASS."

"So you're the in-charge of this society thing. No wonder. But seriously-" Jack then pulled a face. "– 'SASS'?"

"Don't get sidetracked." His hand was guarding his forehead, so Elsa flicked her finger against his ear instead, which still hurt and he yelped as he covered it. "I'll be honest here – we need manpower for the Blood Donation Drive. It doesn't have to be a permanent membership."

"Look, Elsa." The boy sighed as he dragged his hand down his face, trying to think of the right way to explain himself without revealing the truths of his eating habits. "I just want to apologise about the date thing first."

"Uh-huh." Her face was stoic.

"I should have at least told you that I couldn't make it for the date-"

"You went hiking with Hiccup Haddock. My sister told me," was her pointed interjection, raising her brow at him.

He coughed uneasily. "Oh, so you found about that."

"It's alright." She shrugged. "I mean, clearly you value friendship more than the company of the girl you have only asked out a thirty-five times-"

"You've been counting?"

"-so when she finally says yes, you don't turn up. Yes, it makes perfect sense to me." Still, her face revealed nothing.

"Look, it's not completely my choice," he tried to defend himself. "I did – do like you, honest, but it's just that I have – well – things about me that I have problems with sharing info about myself and my family also kind of gave me hell after I told them-"

"Your family?" That was the first time he saw Elsa actually reveal any interest in what he had to say. Her brows furrowed together. "Your family doesn't want you to go out with me? Why?"

"No, no, no," Jack quickly objected with alarm, "it's not you. They don't want me to go out with anyone at all, actually."

"Why?" She seemed slightly less belligerent, but still a little wary. "No dating until after college, or what?"

"Err." He wrung his hands together, unable to help recall some unpleasant memories.

For example –

 _"Mrs. Marsen is holding a party two week from now. I've been thinking about taking Miss Rosalie Dawes-"_

 _"That's a nice thought, as long as you just think it and don't do anything about it."_

-or-

 _"So apparently humankind has progressed somewhat, and they've invented moving pictures."_

 _"Pictures that move? What a feat!"_

 _"Yeah! Any, Lacey – you know that nice girl who lives three blocks down – she has an extra ticket, because her friend Elle couldn't make it-"_

 _"Well, I'm sure she has plenty other friends who would love to go with her."_

 _"Well, yeah, the thing is, apparently we are friends, so she asked-"_

 _"Jack, I'm terribly sorry, but I'm going to need your help in moving furniture all night this week. Hate to trouble you, but you know how picky I am about interior design."_

-or-

" _Hey, did you see old Mrs. Hendson? The new hat that she has matches her walking sti-"_

 _"Oh, leave Mrs. Hendson alone, Jack, and tell me honestly – does this make me look fat?"_

There's more where those came from.

"Basically, they don't trust me enough with relationships."

"But they trust you enough to go hiking on your own?" She cocked an eyebrow at him.

Weeeelll, the hiking trip was actually a secret that he kept from the Guardians. If they knew that he was still associating himself with the Berkian Clan, he would get an earful.

"Look, Elsa,-"

"No, _you_ look here." She didn't flick anything at him, but she did grab him by the collar such that he had to look at her. In a low, yet deadly tone, she said, "You owe me, so you have to help me."

Elsa forcefully grabbed his hand before he could say anything. Sure, he was strong enough to pull it back, but not without revealing his unnaturally superior strength. So Jack sat frozen as she whipped out a marker pen and scribbled down a number and an email address on his hand. When she let him go, she capped the marker with a stern, unmoving expression.

"You will send me an email tonight letting me know your email, and also a text to let me know your phone number. I will then give you your work. Don't do it-" her dark visage grew darker "-and this will happen again."

Elsa marched off, triumph in her wake, while Jack sat, defeated and chagrinned at the Sharpie tattoo on his palm.

~~~0~~~

 _Bloody Mary (by North)_

 _Ingredients:_

 _2 part Vodka_

 _3 part Chicken Blood or Lamb Blood_

 _1/2 Lemon Juice_

 _3 dashes of Tabasco_

 _3 dashes of Worcestershire Sauce_

 _Cayenne Pepper_

 _Horseradish_

 _Cubed ice_

 _Celery stick_

 _Water (Optional)_

 _Anticoagulant (Optional)_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1) Add all your ingredients except ice into a stirring glass_

 _2) Stir mixture completely_

 _3) Add ice._

 _4) Check taste. If the blood is too thick, add water or anticoagulant to dilute/ make less viscous._

 _5) Garnish with celery stick._

 _North's Tip: Fresh blood works best for this beverage, as the blood has yet to coagulate and is still in a runny, liquid state. Otherwise, add a little anticoagulant to slow the clotting. Best on a hot sunny day when one has to stay indoors and keep cool._

~~~0~~~

 _Dear Ms. Lawson,_

 _Thank you so much for your prompt reply. To answer your question, no, we will need not need any extra beds. I think the chairs that we have would be sufficient for the drive…_

So, he was apparently some kind of letter writer. Maybe that made him a secretary? Well, he didn't really know. Apparently, Elsa had dumped quite a number of jobs on him, including finding sponsorships, helping her sister (the brunette girl he met near the lockers – wow, were those girls different!) print posters and helping some guy called Chris, Christopher or Melvin (Jack still couldn't catch his name, but he was leaning towards Melvin) find a way to store the blood bags before they could be transported to the centre.

Human blood. Oh, heavens.

So far, most of the work that Elsa had been piling on him didn't really require him to be at the blood drive itself, but if there wasn't enough volunteers to help out, she would find a way to coerce him into it. He had gotten better at controlling himself over the years, but even if the slightest whiff of iron reached him, he knew that self-control would fling itself out of the window and the monster would be set lose.

Being a vampire sucked.

Jack sucked the alcohol-laced liquid from his straw, before staring on the screen as he tried to think best how to continue the email. According to the law, eighteen-year old high school senior students weren't actually supposed to consume alcohol. Fortunately, rules didn't really apply to him, because one, he wasn't really eighteen, and two, alcohol didn't have any effect on people like him.

North tested it before, and after a hundred bottles of liquor, he still hadn't tipped over, complaining only of a huge need to pee. Their physiology was unique, after all, so it should have been no surprise that what that could affect humans had no effect on vampires. That had made North unhappy for many years, since his passion for beverages of strong taste had taught him to enjoy the after effects of heavy, unwise drinking – including the hangover. The older man had experimented with many ways of mixing drinks with blood and some results had been quite pleasant. All the same, other than the burning sensation down his throat, Jack's mind was as clear as a summer's day.

That was a pity, though. Because sometimes he wished that he could drink himself into oblivion, the way humans did.

"Jack!" North's voice boomed from downstairs. "Dinner has been ordered."

"You mean that dinner has been set," a softer, ungracious voice from below also sounded, no doubt Bunny. "Geez, North, what's the point of living centuries in English-speaking countries if you still can't do the language right?"

Even from his room, Jack could hear North harrumph in a displeased manner. "Well, my good Bunny, you wouldn't survive a second in Moscow!"

"You wouldn't last a second in a pit of garlic!"

"Well, you wouldn't either!"

Jack rolled his eyes as he heard the argument get less and less rational, before hearing a high-pitched yell as Tooth attempted to make peace by also shouting at them. He shook his head as he lowered his laptop screen, laying it on the bed as he leap off the mattress. As he did, he couldn't help the way his eyes flitted to the photo-frames that decorated his shelves.

Most were by Sandy, who had taken up photography as a hobby after they had moved to America. There were pictures of their hunting trips – not the gory parts, of course – and also of vacation they had taken out of state. There were also random ones on birthdays, because even hundreds of years later, they still wanted to celebrate. There were also ones at human festivals, which were still fun to participate in. Even with the differences in their appearance, it was clear that they were a family, one that stood by each other for good or ill over the years.

Yet, it did not mean that he didn't remember his first blood family, in a time when blood was a source of life that his body readily produced and not a staple for his daily meals. In a time when blood was away to connect people, not a way to kill them.

There were no cameras back in the day and his family was too humble to have their portraits done. There had been one of his greatest regrets, for he no longer remembered their faces.

Sometimes, he did miss them.

"Jack!"

"Yeah, yeah," he called back, hiding the weigh on his heart. "Coming."

~~~0~~~

"Wow. Recruitment's really booming."

"Yeah. I know right?" Jack said, as he took another form from a smiling girl, who was fluttering her eyelashes at him. He pretended not to notice, turning his attention to next young lady in line. The latter was clearly delight to have him attend to her and the ignored one pouted before slinking away.

"Yeah, I never managed to get so many people on my own," Anna murmured as she examined the form that he handed to her, stamping it and then filing it. "Thanks for helping."

Indeed, the little booth that they had set up outside the canteen had earned a small crowd and there were people taking forms and flyers from the table. Anna was very pleased with this, though she wasn't aware that the number of girls who stopped in front of the white-haired lad did so to flash him a smile and twirl their hair.

Jack was aware of his good looks. Over time, he had to know that there was something about him that many found attractive. Though he didn't understand it, he was not above using it for his own ends. North didn't approve, of course, and that meant that no one in the Guardians did. It was their stand that he would not use his God-given looks in such a cruel way. He had avoided breaking any hearts as far as he could, but that still didn't mean that he wasn't going to flirt.

"So, you and my sister, huh?"

Jack blinked at Anna as another giggling student had handed him her form. The student dawdled there a bit, fishing perhaps for a kind word or a wink, but when he stare at Anna, the student got frustrated and stomped off.

Finally, the young lad said, "What do you mean?"

"You guys used to be a thing or something." The brunette girl's manner was careless, but the gleaming of her eyes revealed her true interest. "At least, that's the rumour."

"Actually, we never made it past the first date," the boy admitted as he met the first male to come to the booth. The fellow however did have suspiciously bloodshot eyes, reddish complexion and smelled strongly of something that was not quite Kosher. Jack frowned as he scanned down the form, then eyed the – well, he wasn't really sure that this pungent, shabbily dressed youth was a student. Leaning forward, Jack asked him in a low, but polite tone, "Are you sure all your details are correct?"

"Yep," the fellow sniffed, before waving his hand in the air to bat away – well, nothing.

"Okay. Thank you," Jack said, disbelief evident in his tone. The fellow didn't notice, hobbling off with an unstable gait. Once he was sure that the suspicious fellow was out of sight, the boy told his partner, "Write a memo on that guy, won't you? Any blood he gives should be checked proper by the blood bank."

"Roger, captain," Anna chirped, whipping out a Stick-it note and slapping it on the form. As she straightened out their stack of forms, she said, "You know, I think you'll be good for Elsa."

He shot a funny look at her. "What?"

"Ever since our parents died, she's been all closed up and stuff," the girl told him. There was no hysteria or near-tears, just a humble confession tinged with sadness. "I mean, it affected me too, but Elsa kind of took the whole thing personally. She was there when it happened, and well, I wasn't." Her voice became very small, wistful even. "When Kai – that's our guardian – moved us to this town, he hoped that the change of scenery would help her move on."

"Hmm," was all Jack could really conjure up as an answer. He had heard many possible stories about the reasons behind Elsa's cold nature – bad break-up, aborted teen pregnancy, even one about being kidnapped by North Korean spies and having just escaped. This was the first time he heard anything from the horse's mouth, or at least the horse's sister mouth, and it was honestly just about as believable as the rest (okay, so the North Korean one was a bit of stretch). He wondered honestly what did happen to the Arendelle girls' parents.

"An accident. That's why Kai told me," Anna said as she handed out a flyer to a passing student. "The way Elsa stiffens up every time it comes up makes me think there's more to it though."

~~~0~~~

 _Emergency meeting! Come to Oaken's Diner at six sharp. Elsa will murder us and hide our bodies if you don't._

That was message on his phone that led him to lie about having a school project to finish up with some friends and ran off from home before even grabbing a bite.

He arrived at the diner at six sharp and was directed to a table for two. Apparently, the waiter on duty knew his name and shook his head when he asked if there was a mistake in the seating. Jack was even more puzzled when food started arriving to the table without him ordering it, and was told that it had been ordered beforehand and paid for. Maybe Elsa just wanted to make this efficient. All the same, she should have clarified with the waiting staff on the size of their party. There was no way four people could fit around a table as small as this.

The girl of the hour only showed her face after the chocolate milkshakes had arrived – mysteriously, only two. Jack had already started slurping on his (he had managed to slip some blood from his emergency bottle into it without anyone noticing) when she barged into the diner, scanning quickly before she spotted him in the secluded corner. He waved at her to come over, and she did within five long strides, panting as she literally dropped herself onto the seat, plonking her bag next to her.

All she greeted him with was, "Good. You ordered ahead. This would make this quicker."

"Actually, I didn't-" Jack began.

But the girl didn't notice, interrupting him instead, "So, what's the issue?"

Jack scrunched his face up. "Issue?"

"Anna told me that there was some urgent issue with the equipment transport and that you needed to discuss it with me," the words flew from her mouth like a bullet from a barrel. Elsa sat herself up straight, drawing herself closer towards him in tensed eagerness. "Well, what is it?"

Bewilderment swept over him. "Anna told me that you were holding an emergency meeting."

Both of them stared at each other until the scattered pieces in their minds fell in place at the same time. And they both breathed out what they were thinking, "Anna."

"She set this up. I should have seen this coming," Elsa muttered ruefully. "She was a tad too excited when she told me about this."

"Well, give her credit. She tricked us both." Jack too was feeling a little annoyed that he missed . He got up from his seat, sighing regretfully as he glanced at his half-finished sundae. "Oh, well, I'll go then."

"Go?" the blonde girl repeated as she tossed her braid behind her shoulder. "You can't go."

"Why not?"

"Anna has already paid for this – no doubt using Kai's credit card." Elsa showed him the receipt that sat on the table, frowning. "We can't let the food go to waste, and I can't eat it all on my own."

Jack sighed as he thought of the delicious blood stew that could have been his had he stayed at home tonight, then he looked at the girl, whose current expression was an untidy mix of horror, helpless and embarrassment. He sank into his seat and continued drinking his blood-tinted milkshake while the blonde began to cut up the small pizza that sat between, rolling the pin-wheel knife across the board, dividing it up into sixths.

Both of them didn't say anything for a good five minutes. Elsa had loaded a slice of pizza onto her plate and began cut it up in neat squares, popping one by one into her mouth. Jack stared at her, then at the pizza that had been divided in front of them.

Then finally, the girl put dropped her knife against her plate, causing a 'clank!' that almost had him falling out his seat. "If you don't say anything soon, this is going to end being exactly like that night where you stood me up."

"That bad, huh?" Jack couldn't help grinning even though he was supposed to feel guilty

"Well." Elsa shrugged, her tone softening. "That night I suppose I did also get pityingly looks from the waiters. That hasn't happened so far." She lift her spoon up, scrutinising it for a moment before setting it down on the table, but away from her now. "Well, perhaps that's because the service here needs serious work. The food is good though." She jerked her chin towards the slices of pizza between them. "You should try it."

"Well, um,-" he couldn't think up any excuses on why he shouldn't "-alright then." Jack reluctantly took up the cheesy triangular pastry with his hand and bit into it. He was surprised that despite the lack of blood, it was actually really delicious. "Wow."

"I told you. Anna's tastebuds can be trusted." A smile briefly formed on her lips, disappearing almost instantly after.

Jack swallowed down the food and helped himself to another bite almost immediately after. "You guys close?"

"Well, I suppose so," Elsa said. "We've always got along as kids." But her eye betrayed a shadow of doubt.

"Really?" Jack slurped on his blood-chocolate milkshake, then elaborated, "You guys share everything with each other and all that?"

The girl hesitated slightly as she nibbled a little on the pizza slice stuck to her fork. "Most things."

"But not things like how your parents died?" By the time he realised what he had said, it was too late.

The way she slowly lifted her head up towards him was nothing short of terrifying. How her eyes, so brilliant and blue, narrowed on him, like an assassin about to take out his target.

"Touchy subject?" Jack offered nervously, chuckling despite how inappropriate it was.

"More like none of your business," Elsa told him shortly, cutting through her pizza with more force then necessary. "I don't ask you personal questions about your family, do I?"

"Fair point," he conceded, hoping the humble retreat would be enough to calm her rage. He pushed the bowl sitting dangerously near the edge of the table towards her. "Salad?"

She shot him a glare to show that she was still angry, but took the humble offering nonetheless. The silence returned for another minute or two, before it was this time broken by the lad, who was feeling a little repentant for his earlier misdeed. "So, why not tell me about yourself?"

"What do you want to know?" Her tone was a little grumpy, but not too enough to scare him.

"Well,-" he fumbled about to think of a good question "-why you're always wearing gloves?"

She stared at him long and hard.

"Don't tell me that's a sensitive question," he snorted, snickering as he did. He did stop however when her expression didn't change. "Okay. No talking about gloves. Got that."

"Why don't you tell me something, Jack?" Elsa's eyes had a challenging, almost mysterious glint. "Why did you ask me out even though you knew your parents wouldn't like it?"

"My family," Jack corrected absentmindedly, biting the inside of his cheek as he tried to think of a reply. "Well-"

Well, he could just tell her that it was because she was pretty, but that wasn't good enough. Lots of girls in school were just as pretty as she was – Anna was too - but he never fancied them. Their cheeks were too red and their skin was too warm. Their eyes were too bright and their laughs were too full of life. Elsa wasn't like that – she was pale and cold, with eyes as hard as stone. Like him.

But it wasn't very wise to tell a girl that the most attractive thing about her was her resemblance to the living dead.

She was waiting for his answer and he was doing his best not to let out the truth. Fortunately – or not, he was saved from his awkward situation.

By a choking sensation running up his throat.

"Jack? Are you alright?"

He was wringing his hand against his neck, pulling against the collar of his hoodie. The burning feeling inside him only increased more as the second ticked by as he began to cough.

"Are you choking?" He shook his head. "Well, then what's wrong?"

Jack's eyes darted to the food, and he cursed himself for not being more careful. It had been centuries since he had made this mistake. If Bunny were here, he would get rapping on the skull.

He whipped his phone out of the pocket, thrusting it forcefully at her. "Not locked. Call Bunny."

"Bunny?" She looked at him as if he were mad. "Jack, I think you need a ambulance!"

"No ambulance," he said through gritted teeth. A blood donation drive was bad enough. Take him to a place full of wounded, bleeding people and all his self-restraint would die, even in his present condition. "Call Bunny." Through his blurred vision, he could tell that they were getting some attention from other patrons in the diner. "Help me out of here."

She wasn't pleased with all his directions, but Jack thanked whoever was listening above that she didn't argue with him. She moved over to where he was and helping off his seat, letting him hook his arm over her shoulder for support. It was a good thing that Anna had settled the bill earlier, so there was nothing stopping them from making the hasty exit then. The waiter did seem quite displeased with the lack of tips, though, and made a rude gesture after the young couple disappeared out of the glass door.

The diners soon resumed back to their conversation, forgetting about what they had seen, putting it down to 'weak stomach, poor boy'. There was one in the crowd, however, that did not dismiss the event so readily.

He put down his menu and walked over to the recently vacated table. He examined the leftovers on the table, lifting up a pizza slice to scrutinise it further. He sniffed the piece and it was sufficient to confirm his suspicion. "Garlic. Of course."

His gaze flitted to the glass door, where the figures of the white-haired boy and the girl with the blonde braid could still be seen. After he set the pizza back down where he had found it, he removed the jack knife from his pocket and resumed the sharpening of the wooden stake in his hand.

~~~0~~~

 **I have no excuse for starting this story when I have so many other that need attention. Plot-bunny power is strong. Not sure when I can update though.**

 **Vampires in this story are mostly like vampires from the Dracula novel, though there are some clear differences (like being happy, cheerful people). Vampire's here are more like 'haemovores' – blood-eaters. Also long as they eat blood, in whatever form, they're usually alright.**

 **Most of the recipes, other than North's Bloody Mary, are legit recipes. Blodplattar's are Swedish, Black Pudding's Irish and Blood Tofu is Chinese.**

 **If you enjoyed this, a review would be nice.**

 **Oh, and happy Good Friday. That's looks kind of odd when I type it out, but yeah.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Jack!" A young woman with emerald hair came flying out of the house. She looked a few years older than Jack, so Elsa guessed that she was probably his older sister.

The hunk of a man that was called 'Bunny' had gotten out of his car seat, so Elsa followed suit and pushed the door open, climbing out to see. The man had gone over to the other side of the car to help the boy writhing in agony undo his seatbelt. Scooping the lad up from his seat, into his muscular arms, he carried him up the porch of the massive mansion that she could only assume to be the Guardian home.

"What happened?" the emerald hair lady was asking the man.

"Garlic," was the short response, and that was all that the woman needed to hear. Elsa surprised at that moment when she saw the thin, delicate young man take Jack from the arms of the man into her own with breaking a sweat.

Her expression was then noted by the woman, who had only just spotted her for. The woman, who with her light brown-skin, delicate hands and bright violet eyes was actually very beautiful, then murmured to her brother - at least, Elsa thought they were related. Maybe the two of them were a couple. She couldn't really tell -, asking, "Who's this?"

"She was with Jack when it happened," he answered, but from his manner, Elsa couldn't help but feel as if he was deliberately leaving out some information – information that could not be revealed to strangers.

"Well, I'll get him inside," the woman said, moving towards the house while adjusting her grip on the suffering boy. Elsa felt a pang of sympathy for him. He was annoying at times, yes, but he really seemed to be in pain.

The fellow labelled 'Bunny' on Jack's phone was about to enter the house too, but paused when his gaze rested on Elsa. Initially, she had intended to walk home on her own. She was an independent young woman, after all. But Jack's brother – at least, she thought he was his brother - had insisted that a young lady shouldn't be walking home alone at night. A tad old-fashioned way thinking, but she relented to his pleas.

He then jerked his head towards the car. "Get in, shiela."

It took her a while to figure out that he was talking to her.

Elsa climbed back into the car, but instead of sitting behind like she had before, she took the shotgun seat. It was, after all, the polite behaviour by which her parents had raised her by.

As the burly young man strapped himself behind the wheel, she asked, "Is your name really Bunny?"

He shot a look at her, but it was not angry or unkind. "What do you think, shiela?"

She wondered if she should tell him that her name wasn't 'shiela', but decided that it didn't really matter. "Well, it sounds more like a nickname."

"It is," he confirmed with a chuckle. In the dim-light, she could make out of a bit of his hair - grey. It was seemed that Jack's family was a colourful bunch. "If you want to know, though, my real name's Ealdun. Ealdun Aster B. Guardian. "

"Ealdun," she repeated, allowing the syllables to run down her tongue. "It's a nice name."

"Thank you, though I prefer Aster over Ealdun. For some reason, the rest of the Guardians thinks both names too boring." He turned the key, starting up the engine. She could see the silhouette of him pressing against the pedals and felt the vehicle move below them. "Ever since Jack joined us and started calling me Bunny, no one has called me Ealdun or Aster." He let out a discontent sniff as he guided the car down back on the open road, away from the mansion. "Alright, where do you stay?"

"Fjord Avenue." The car accelerated after he swung them around a bend, speeding down the greenery covered path that she knew would carry her home. Her sharp ears and ever astute attention caught what he said just as it passed her lips. "I'm sorry if this is rude, but is Jack adopted?"

The driver assessed her with surprise, eyes leaving the road for a good five seconds. Slowly, he answered, "Well, yes. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess." She shrugged, before adding, "That, and you said Jack 'joined you all'. It suggests that he was quite a bit older before he became a Guardian." Elsa glanced at him for confirmation.

Bunny let out an approving whistle, clearly impressed. "You're smart. I see why Jack likes you."

"So what does the 'F' in his name really stand for?" she asked this while watching the shadows sail past her window. That sent a rather unpleasant sensation under her skin, and she turned her attention to the conversation instead.

"Frankenstein." He had an absolutely straight face when he said it. When Elsa glanced at him in alarm, the blocky fellow let out a chortle. "Relax! I'm messin' with you." He spun the wheel, making the car take a left down much wider strip of road. "If you want to know his real name, you'll have to ask him yourself."

"Alright then." Elsa nodded, sinking back in her seat while adding that question to the dozens in her mental notebook. One of those dozens included his family objection to dating and him not wanting her to call an ambulance. Maybe he wanted to avoid paying hospital fees? But from the house, the Guardians were surely loaded – money shouldn't be an issue.

A lull fell between them, with nothing to be heard the rolling wheels of the car and the occasional distant traffic. The houses around Burgess were fairly wide-spread after all, with large stretches of untamed land and unexplored forests between every house and its neighbour. The journey was going to be a while.

It then occured to her that she was getting ride home from a strong, large stranger after nightfall. Sure, he was Jack's adopted brother, but she didn't know him enough to trust him. She whipped out her phone and began texting Anna that she was on her way home. If she didn't turn up back as she had said, safe and sound, then Anna will know that something was wrong at least. Elsa just kept her phone on her lap, too, as a subtle threat against any ill behaviour.

Bunny however did not seem to notice. "So, shiela, mind telling me - what exactly were you doing with our Jacky-boy?" The way he used 'Jacky-boy' sounded more sarcastic than affectionate.

Elsa opened her mouth to grumble about the stupidity of her sister and how she had attempted to matchmake the two of them, but then she stopped short when she remembered what Jack had told her before. His family for some reason didn't approve of him dating. If she told this to his elder brother, and then he told the rest of the family, that would spell bad news for Jack. She wasn't sure how she felt about the white-haired boy, true, or if she even liked him at all, but she was a considerate girl with a conscience.

So Elsa decided to go with her sister's lie. "We were having a discussion with regard to the programme we're organising."

"Programme?" Bunny murmured with interest. "What programme?"

"A blood donation drive at our school. Jack's actually not half-bad with all the work I've been piling on him," she added a praise. It never hurt to be positive. "He's really good at working out all the technicalities that I hate, like-" Elsa paused to count of the numerous factors that had been considered "-the timing, the flyer distribution, the publicity - oh, Jack had this great idea to promote the drive to the neighbourhood, not just the school - and how to store the blood, and other stuff. Don't tell him I said this but-" she shrugged "-he's been a huge help."

The one in the driving seat harrumphed, as if he wasn't very interested in the topic. Feeling a little deflated, Elsa sunk back into her chair, crossing her arms.

But then he asked, "A blood donation drive, hey?"

"Yep," she affirmed, popping the 'p' at the end.

"As in human blood?"

"Well,-" the darkness in the car hid the way her face scrunched up in bewilderment. What other kind of blood would they use? This wasn't the 1800s where people took blood from cows "-yes."

"Interesting," Bunny muttered. Then he changed the subject. "So, you guys classmates?"

A bit of small talk flew back and forth between them, before the vehicle finally drove down Fjord Avenue. She thanked him for the ride, which he answered with a grunt. His car did stay by the gate until Kai came to open the door for her though, which she thought was rather chivalrous of him. Perhaps she had misjudged Jack's roughshod older brother.

Her guardian asked of course who was it that drove her back, to which she answered honestly, but left out details of Anna being the mastermind. Kai would discover that eventually when the dinner bill for his credit card came.

As she headed upstair, Elsa stripped off her coat and her bag, dumping the first into the laundry basket and the second on the wall hook. When she arrived at her bedroom, her sister was already lying down on her own bed, curled up with a romance novel. Noting the entrance of her blonde sister, Anna lowered her book, asking coyly, "Soooo, how did it go?"

"Jack had an allergy attack," Elsa informed her with a deadpan.

"Wait - what?" Her braids flew up as she sat upright. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine." Elsa waved off her concern. "His elder brother came to pick him and took him home. His family's dealt with this before."

"Okay." Anna nodded sombrely for two seconds, then quickly switched back to her usual hyper-excited state. "So, will there be a second date?"

The elder girl just narrowed eyes down at her unrepentant sister, before pulling out her wallet and removing a five-dollar bill. Holding it out, she told her, "For lunch tomorrow."

Anna took the money with a quizzical expression. "Thanks, but why?"

"Kai's probably going to cut your allowance once he finds out what you've done."

~~~0~~~

 _Anti-Garlic Cure (by Sandy)_

 _1 Cup of Vinegar_

 _1 Teaspoon of cayenne pepper_

 _1 Bloodroot Herb_

 _1 Teaspoon of carbonated salts_

 _1 Bucket_

 _Steps to Prepare:_

 _1)Mince the Bloodroot Herb lightly, as not to lose the flavour_

 _2)Mix together with vinegar, cayenne pepper and carbonated salts_

 _3)Drink the mixture quickly_

 _4)Use the bucket so that you don't mess up the carpet_

~~~0~~~

His head hurt really awfully after all the throwing up that he needed to do. It was a disgusting procedure, but it was the only treatment of garlic consumption. After his mortal body was 'vampire-fied', his internal organs had altered such that his stomach no longer tolerated garlic. According to North, garlic didn't actually kill vampires, but it could put them in a great deal of pain to the point that non-function. Since the garlic couldn't pass through his body like normal food and having it inside made his entire body burn with agony, he had to throw it up.

Though he felt much better now after the treatment, his head was now the problem. Sandy had told him that throwing up that much liquid was making him feel dehydrated, so he had gone off to get him some nice cooling blood tea to drink. Tooth had also left him at the living room so that she could go dispose of his regurgitated stomach contents. There was nothing more gross than blood mixed in acid and garlic.

Unfortunately, while waiting idly for his caretakers to return and nursing his headache, a deafening roar came ringing against his skull, "JACK _FLIPPING-PANCAKES-WITH-CREAM-AND-CHERRIES_ FROST, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

He reclined back into the couch, wincing as he covered a hand over his ear. "Really, Bunny, can't you see that I'm in pain?"

"Pain? You deserve much more, ya gumby!" The older man who had just stormed into the living room grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground. Jack hissed as he felt his headache multiply tenfold. "I could throw you out of the window right this second! Or I could rip you into half, or-"

"Bunny! Let go of him!" Tooth came flying to the rescue, protectively her arms around Jack and pulling him out of Bunny's grasp. Sandy himself just calmly strolled into the living room bearing in his arms the promised blood tea and a box of … popcorn, for some reason. "He just had a garlic attack!"

"Which he wouldn't have if he wasn't going to a meeting about a 'Blood Donation Drive'," growled the Australian-born fellow, folding his arms.

"A blood donation drive?" Tooth repeated, surprised. "Well, when I saw the girl, I thought that he'd gone a date. Which is something-" she drew herself back, glaring at the boy who was chuckling uneasily "-I had meant to talk to him _extensively_ about."

"Whoa, whoa." Bunny's anger seemed to taper off a little with his confusion. "Wait, so was it a blood donation drive meeting, or was it a date?"

Tooth tapped her chin as she pondered. "Is one really worse than the other?"

They both looked at each other, then turned to stare at Jack. He stared back.

Sandy, who had been silent so far and stayed silent for the rest of his days, sat himself down on an arm chair, kicked his feet up onto the ottoman and began munching on the popcorn he had taken from kitchen earlier. He held out the glass of blood tea to the teen of their team, who took it too in silence.

"So,-" Tooth placed a hand on her hip, "-which is it, Jack?"

The white-haired lad sighed while rubbing a hand against his neck. In a small voice, he squeaked out, "Both?"

The tirade was instantaneous.

"We had a talk about this, Jack! I thought we saw eye-to-eye!-"

"Jack, you know why we don't date mortals. We've been over this a million times!-"

"-Even if you don't steal the blood, you're placing yourself in the immediate proximity of temptation. Have you lost your mind, you half-witted piece of-"

"-Reason 1: You might drink that mortal dry someday. Now, I'm not saying that you can't have friends, or get to close to anyone, but if a person is especially close to you and you feel a great deal for that person, that bundle of emotions can just explode into feelings of extreme hunger any second!-"

"-And from the way she described it, it sounds like you have to actually be there at the blood collection. _Are. You. Kidding. Me._ You moron!-"

"-Reason Two: You're immortal. The most basic rule of being an immortal is don't date someone might potentially die. You'll be nursing that heartache for eternity, Jack. It's not worth it.-"

"-You're going to be around a bunch of weakened humans with blood pouring out of their bodies like streams. You took an oath, Jack, and I'll keep you to that oath even if I have to bind you in chains-"

"-And reason number three – Jack, you know reason number three." She grabbed the boy's hand suddenly, seeming almost pleading. "You know what it means to me. Please, don't put other people through what I-"

Sandy just continued to crunching on his popcorn.

"Alright, alright, guys!" Jack waved his hand at the two older vampires, making them fall silent at his outcry. His head was hurting more than usual, so he took a long sip of the blood tea. Swallowing, he then gazed at the two of older Guardians. "Look, I get what you guys are saying, okay? But I just need some time alone to think this though." With that, he brushed off Tooth's hand and Bunny's glare, marching out of the living room and heading towards his room.

The room fell in a pool of uneasy quiet, only broken by the daring whisper from Tooth first, "Poor Jack."

" _Poor Jack_? He brought this on himself." Bunny scoffed, peering at her with disgust. "You spoil that the cheeky bugger too much."

"And you're too harsh on him," she refuted, crossing her arms. "He's not like the rest of us, Bunny. He's got a free spirit."

"Free spirit." A sound of revulsion echoed from the back his throat. "His bloody free spirit would be the end of himself, and the rest of us if he isn't careful."

"He can't help it." Tooth sighed pityingly as she glanced in the direction that Jack had gone down. "There's a part of him that still wants very much to be human."

"Isn't there in all of us, Tooth? Isn't there?"

A soft sob was heard from behind them and they saw Sandy wiping a tear from his eye. If it wasn't for his smile, they would have thought that he was grieving over something. Instead, he wiped his wet hand on his shirt and signed to them, "You would have made great parents."

Bunny rolled his eyes. "Stop trying to match us together, Sandy. It hasn't happened in the last four hundred years and it's not going to happen now."

"Not until you get a dental plan," Tooth put in pertly, still clearly irritated with him.

"Not until you learn to eat chocolate," Bunny shot back.

The girl placed her hand on her hip, wagging her finger at him. "Now, look here, Mr. Bunnymund, don't think because you're a vampire that your teeth won't drop off one day."

"Our teeth can't rot!" Bunny threw his hands up in the air. "We've been through this! We're Vamp- _flippin_ '-pires!"

"I beg to differ! According to the research done by-"

Sandy leaned back into his armchair and chortled noiselessly as the argument got more and more heated. Ah, it was like watching a soap opera that didn't require him to switch on the TV.

~~~0~~~

 _Korean Blood Sausage "Sundae" (By Bunny)_

 _What you need:_

 _Beef or pork small intestine_

 _2 cup Korean Rice_

 _Fresh yellow ginger_

 _1 teaspoon Salt_

 _0.5 teaspoon Pepper_

 _1 tablespoon Korean sesame oil_

 _1 teaspoon Sesame seeds_

 _3 Scallions_

 _2 cup ground Beef or Pork blood_

 _How to Prepare it:_

 _1)Soak rice for about 30 minutes._

 _2)Put rice in a pot with three cups of water. Bring to a boil then reduce heat for simmer. Remove from heat once cooked and cool._

 _3)Clean the intestines by running warm water through one end and squeezing gently through to the other._

 _4)Soak intestines in a light salt water solution for about one hour._

 _5) Chop the scallions and ginger finely_

 _6) Toast sesame seeds in pan till golden brown. Be careful, because sesame seeds burn easily._

 _7) Add sesame seeds to scallion, ginger, ground meat, blood, salt, pepper and sesame oil. Mix them in a mixing bowl._

 _8) Using a funnel fill the intestine with stuffing. Spread the filling evenly and don't be greedy._

 _9) Tie off loose ends with string._

 _10)Place sausage into a pot of water and bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 45mins._

 _11) Serve 'sundae' with lettuce leaves or a dipping sauce of your choice._

~~~0~~~

"Hey, how are you?"

He almost choked on the sausage he was eating. Today's lunch box was packed by Bunny, who had an unhealthy love for East Asian food and had prepared for him a chuck load of sundaes (not ice-cream sundaes, but the korean 'sun-dae', which was a boiled sausage consisting glutinous rice, meat and – you guessed – lots of blood.) Of course, with sausage pieces looked fairly ordinary and he was getting better at hiding his fangs, so eating it in publicly wasn't an issue.

No, the real reason why he was sitting near the school carpark, next to the dumpster, was because he just wanted to eat alone, away from social interaction. To just dwell in his thoughts and enjoy his food.

It appeared that the blonde girl must have been part bloodhound, because she didn't seem to have a problem in finding him wherever he was.

He sat there coughing for a while and was surprising to feel her thumping him on the back.

"Better?" Elsa asked with surprising concern when he stopped coughing.

He nodded, finding this whole thing just very bizzarre.

She then drew herself back, repeated herself, "Alright, so, how are you?"

It occurred to him that she wasn't exactly asking about today, but the events that had happened the previous night. "Oh, I'm fine now." He cleared his throat as he tried to subtly cover the lunchbox lid over his food. "Um, what are you doing here?"

"It's generally polite to check on your friends, especially after one seems to be terrifyingly ill," Elsa said as she sat on the ledge next to him. "Also, its generally unwise to be eating in a place as unhygienic as this." She wrinkled her nose at the sight of the giant bins standing not too far away.

"Wait, we're friends?" Jack raised a questioning brow, rather amused by the prospect.

"I'm using Anna's definition of 'friends'," the blonde girl muttered dryly. She had reached for her own backpack and was unzipping it. "That would mean any person that she exchanges more than two sentences without punching them."

Despite himself, a grin grew itself on his countenance. "So you don't feel like punching me?"

"'Feel' and 'Do' are two very different things," was her snarky answer, yet she made no move to distant them. She cast a displeased look at the bins once again. "Do you really have to eat here?"

"Well, I'm not stopping you from leaving." He ended up stabbing his fork into a piece of sausage and eating. Eh, if she saw his food and commented on it, he could just.

"Well, you haven't got back to me on the emails. I need to know how many stations we'll be setting up before picking a room in the school." It was then that she produced a lunchbox of her own. It was a very neat little box, if Jack could say so himself, with the cutlery cleverly locked into the lid and the rest of the box divided into little compartments, much like a bento set.

"You bring packed lunch too?"

"Saves money," Elsa said, sliding the lid under the box before placing the whole thing on her lap, the way that he did for his. "That, and I'm a picky eater."

"Same." Jack nodded before biting into a bit of his sundae.

She cocked her head curiously at him, and he realised that she was looking at the blood sausage. "What's that?"

"Oh, um, some Korean thing that Bunny made," he answered vaguely, playing it cool – or as cool as he knew, at least. "He's used to travel a lot, and he's into a lot of East Asia stuff."

"It looks … interesting." He supposed that that was a just polite way of saying that it looked disgusting. But then – "Could I try a bit of it?"

"Um,-" his moral compass popped up, spinning in his mind a dozen possible responses. Well, this kind of blood food was invented by human mortal Koreans who actually enjoyed this, right? And it wasn't as if it was made of human blood "-do you have any diet restrictions?"

Elsa thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I do hate raw fish, but other than that, I'm fine with most things."

"Well, if you really want-" he sliced off a small piece, sticking it with his fork "-but you have to keep an open mind."

A mystified expression appeared on her face, almost amused. "Very well. Try me."

Jack transferred the small piece to her lunch box, where she, still donning her arm-length gloves, picked it up with her polished silverware, scrutinising it first before nibbling off a corner, chewing thoughtfully. He felt his body tensing up, and he didn't know why he cared so much that about her reaction.

Finally, he could see her swallow and then Elsa spoke, "Taste rather – iron-ish. Liver?"

He thought over all the ingredients, before answering slowly, "No."

"Must blood then." His eyes widened slightly as she took a bigger bite into the piece on her spoon, chewing thoughtfully again on it. As always, she was well-mannered enough to swallow before commenting again, "It's kind of odd, I suppose, but not really bad. Not bad at all."

"Yeah, well,-" there was prickly sensation over his skin, rattling the very depths of his core – oh, wait, that was self-consciousness "-I've got a weird diet."

"Weird, perhaps, but blood's a good source iron. In appropriate amounts, it's actually healthy," Elsa answered, calmly finishing the last bit of the sausage on her spoon, before beginning to attack the salad in her lunchbox. "Besides, don't flatter yourself on your unique diet. There was a time in middle school were I'd eat chocolate, and only chocolate, all day."

"All day?" He gazed at her in critically. "How are you even alive?"

There seemed to be an almost mischievous glint in her eye. "I've got a killer metabolism."

~~~0~~~

 _Squeee_! "Ooooooooh, Elsa!"

"Anna, please!" The blonde girl sitting behind the recruitment booth cringed as her sister enveloped her in a horrifying tight bear hug. "What did I say about physical contact?"

"That it's bad and you're not comfortable with it. Sorry," Anna said, still grinning as she half-abashed pulled herself away. "But I'm just so, oh,-" she was almost jumping up and down "-oh, this is so exciting! You guys had a date! A successful date! _AHHHHHHHHHHH_!"

"Anna, it was just lunch next to a garbage disposal." A student had then handed her his form. Elsa checked the details before dismissing him. She then turned her attention back to her younger sister. "Besides, his family doesn't want him to date. They're very … controlling."

"Oh, my goodness." The younger girl was fanning herself, looking almost delirious. "A forbidden romance. This gets better and better!"

Elsa rolled her eyes before settling back to keying in number on her laptop. Sometimes she wished Anna would find romance of her own so that she would stop trying to live through hers – not that anything between Jack and her was remotely close to such. Forbidden romance? Seriously?

"Oh, hi," she heard a smooth, deep voice speak from the other side of the booth. It was a tinted with a slight European accent, just strong enough to charming, but not too strong so that it could be understood. "Are you the blood donation people?"

She didn't move from her spot, because she expected Anna to handle this fellow, but her sister seemed to be fumbling quite a bit. "Oh, you want to sign up? Sure, here's a form! Oh, wait, I haven't answered your question. Haha. Yes! Yes, we're the blood donation people. I meant, we might not actually be donating blood ourselves – I'm not even old enough too – but sure, you can sign up. Oh wait, are you at least seventeen? I mean, that's just to check. You look like you're older than seventeen, so I'm sure you could sign up. Oh, I don't mean that you look old at all. You're definitely the prime example of youthful health, you know. Because, c'mon, you're tall and muscular and those sideburns – some say it's too Victorian, but I say 'wow', because hey, you got to be gorgeous enough to pull off-" the girl suddenly broke off "-wait, what?"

Elsa raised her head just in time to see the fellow standing in front of the booth chuckle "Thank you, for I'm not actually here to sign up for donations."

Her sister was a melting mess of teen hormones, but she had to admit, the redheaded guy was quite a looker and he rather well-built, though a bit on the lean side. "Oh, um, then why are you here?"

"I'm from the hospital, actually," the handsome charmer beamed at her sister in a way that Elsa felt distinctly disapproving of. How old was this guy? He was in no way the right age to be flirting with a sophomore. "We want to take a look at the set-up of this place before we bring the equipment over during the drive."

"The person you'll need to talk to would be me," Elsa cut in, rising from her seat and almost forcefully pushing Anna aside. The younger girl wasn't pleased, of course, but Elsa didn't care. She would have a word with her sister later in private about flirting with strangers and calling them gorgeous. She stuck a gloved hand out at the redhead. "Elsa Arendelle. I'm the head of the Social Awareness Student Society."

"Hans Westergaard." He shook her hand, and she noted that he had quite a firm grip. When his long sleeves rode up, she could see the tattoo that he had imprinted on the inside of his wrist. Elsa frowned. She wasn't going to let tattooed scoundrel manipulate her sweet, but incredibly naïve, sister. "I'm a volunteer at the Burgess National Hospital. They told me to come down to-"

"Yes, yes, I heard what you said to my sister." Immediately after shaking hands, Elsa folded her arms in front of her, looking at him frostily in the eye. "I have a few locations in mind, but nothing's confirmed yet. I can only decide once you guys tell me how many stations you guys want to set up."

"Well, Miss Arendelle,-" his manner, polite as it seemed, had an underlying curtness. So he noticed her hostility. Good. There was more where that came from, "-we can't decide on how many stations to set up until we see the room."

"But I need to know how many stations to set up before I can pick a room."

"And I need to see the room before I can decided on how many stations to set up."

Elsa let out an exasperated huff. They were just arguing in circles. "Oh, very well." She climbed out of the booth, directing her sister to her laptop, "Anna, help me key the records, won't you?"

"But," Anna protested, staring desperately at her newly obtained eye-candy "I could-"

"Thanks, Anna," she cut her off, while waving a sharp hand to the redheaded volunteer. "Alright, follow me. The first place I thought of was the school gym. I also hope that you're taking notes, by the way."

~~~0~~~

"And despite all my best efforts, she still got his number. I managed to delete it off her phone, but by then it's too late. He saved her number, and now she's now his liason, so I can't stop them from talking to each other." She stabbed her knife into her pie slice with more force than necessary, glaring at it viciously. "I can guarantee that he's at least six years older than her. What a creep."

"Wow." Jack slurped down his soup, wondering if he should mention that he's around three hundred years older than her. He didn't, because he wasn't stupid. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Get this donation drive over with, then tell that creep stay at least a state away from my sister." A bit of sauce splattered on her gloves when she sawed through the pastry, prompting her to lay down the cutlery and use a tissue to dab it clean.

They were at some small Norwegian restaurant that Elsa's worked at. The food wasn't that great, but she did have employee's discount on dinner sets. For some reason, she had invited him to share with her this benefit. Now, he learned that that reason was because she needed someone to hear to her rant.

Seeing an opportunity to change the subject, he asked, pointing his fork in her direction, "So, are you ever going to tell me why you wear gloves?"

The blonde lifted her brow at him.

"What? I thought we'd be pass this now, given the level of our friendship."

"We're not friends, Jack," she said primly.

He pulled a face. "But you said that we were last time."

"That's according to Anna's definition of friends," Elsa retorted, scooping up the piece of pie with her spoon. "Besides, the gloves' a personal thing. I don't even tell Anna."

"You don't?" He broke the already cold flatbread that came with the soup. The soup itself was actually Czarnina, a Polish dish that shouldn't belong to a self-proclaimed Norwegian restaurant, but hey, it had blood in it, so he wasn't complaining. That said, he had tasted North's version of it, which was so, so much better. "You know, you guys seem close, but there seems to be a lot of stuff you don't share with each other."

"No," Elsa protested at first, but then a thoughtful second later, she admitted, "Oh, well, I guess I don't tell her some things, but it's because I want to protect her." She noticed the sceptical expression on his face and huffed. "Oh, I wouldn't expect you to understand. You don't have any younger siblings."

"No, I don't," Jack murmured, as he sullenly dipped the bread into the soup. "Not anymore anyway."

He wasn't sure how his thoughts started drifting, but the memories of warm fires and cold winters played in his mind, at a time when he was more able of discern the two sensations. His world had then smelled of musty wood, damp boots and dried dirt. It had sounded like laughter and hard work. It had been a lot, lot simpler, with no secrets, lies, or cover-stories. There was no moving from town to town when they'd stayed too long, watching their backs and watching their stomachs. There was no constant weight of guilt over his head, a guilt that needed to be suppressed by an unhealthy multitude of pranks, jokes and self-help books.

"What was she like?"

"Hmm?" His head jerked up.

"You said you mentioned that you had a little sister," Elsa said. She must have caught what he had muttered, and with her super-smart super-senses, managed to decipher exactly what the past tense had implied. "Was she a bag of mischief like you?"

"Well," he hesitated. He never really talked to anyone about his pre-turned life. The Guardians didn't encourage reminiscing on the old times, mostly because it was depressing. They would bring up snippets of it, every time, but he had never heard Bunny or Sandy share much about their human lives. Most of Tooth's backstory was just sad and North's was bits and pieces. He supposed that if he didn't go into specifics, she wouldn't know that he had was actually talking about his life on a colonial settlement back in the 1700s. "She's a nicer version of me, I would say. Smaller too."

"Did she have white-hair too?" An amused smirk curled by the side of her face.

"Well, no," he answered. Her sister's hair had been clearly brown, just as his had been before. "I'm the only one who got white hair."

Elsa 'hmm-hmmed' at that, before asking in a quieter voice, "Do you miss her?"

Jack gulped. "I think I do. I-" his spoon sloushes around in the soup, shifting uneasily in his seat "-I try, at least. It's not the easiest memory." Not when most of it was blotched in red, anyway.

She didn't probe him any further, as if she had somehow read his mind and decided that his history was perhaps too icky to care about. They sat in the noisy silence of the half-baked, so-called restaurant, eating the half-baked, so-called food.

Her voice was the one that sliced through the lull. "If you really want to know-" his head jerked up towards her, noting immediately the conflict in her eyes "-I can tell you how my parents died. I suppose it won't really matter that you know, but all the same, I'd rather if you don't tell anyone – especially Anna."

He didn't nod, but he didn't shake his head either. He adjusted himself on the uncomfortable chair, drawing it nearer to show that he was listening. She too mirrored his actions. For all of the cool that she displayed, the trembling of her fork betrayed her nervousness.

Finally, she began, "We were driving home from out of town at night. Anna wasn't there. Can't remember why, but she wasn't." Her knifes twisted her grip as she slowly began cutting through the thick crust and the dry fillings of her pie. "The road was dark. My father was speeding a little – it was the highway after all, and no one was going to stop him – and my mother was talking to him. I was gazing out of the window at the time, which is why I saw them. Grinning shadows." There was a wry turn of her lip, one that spelt disbelief in her own story. "Even though we were rushing past them, I kept seeing faces and figures, chasing after us. I didn't know what to tell my parents, so I couldn't warn them. Even with what I did see, it wouldn't have been much help anyway."

Down came the knife onto the plate, making a clean cut. She lifted the pierced piece and popped in her mouth, chewing fiercely and swallowing. "I remembered a dark figure appearing in front of the car while it spead down the highway, and it was grinning while my mother screamed and my father grabbed frantically at the wheel. When the hood of the car smashed against the figure, it crushed inwards-" she demonstrated sombrely by crushing a gloved fist into her palm, twisting it as she did "-sending cracks through the windscreen as our car flipped back and over. I was unconscious for about-" Elsa paused to think "-ten seconds, maybe."

"When I came to, the car was overturned, with all our bodies stuck trapped inside. Maybe it was the impact of the blood rushing to my head, maybe it was a concussion, but it took me a while to realise that I heard a horrible, terrible sound from the seats in front of me, where my parents were. When I looked up,"- she clenched her fist suddenly, her pupils dilated and body tensed up, as if she was prepared to flee the table "-I saw, hovering around my mother's dead body, the grinning face with dripping fangs."

"I screamed, of course, and tugged against my seatbelt, but before I knew it, I was ripped out of the car. The car door was flung across the street, like it weighed nothing at all, and I was held in the air, by the neck. The black figure was laughing up at me while I wriggled about its claws. Then, I blacked out." She grimly resumed her chore of slicing up the pie. "When I woke up, I was lying on the road, with paramedics hovering over me and people dragging my parents' dead bodies out of the car. They took me to the hospital, and told me that I had been in an accident. Except that I knew it _wasn't_ an accident."

Elsa let out a heavy exhale, lifting her eyes towards him, and in them held bitterness, anger and horror that he never expected a girl her age to know. "No one believe me when I told them about the dark figure, of course. They thought that I was traumatised from the experience, and they sent me to several psychairtrists to get my memories 'straightened'. They kept Anna away from me, because I went a bit nuts and scared her." Elsa rubbed her wrist uncomfortably when she mentioned that, eyes downcast at that moment. "They never told her the details of what they found – she was just eleven at the time. I have no intention of her ever knowing that our parents were murdered. She doesn't need these nightmares." She clutched herself by the arms, as if protecting herself from an unseen force. "That's my burden to bear."

"Hey." His hand reached out to her almost the same time his heart did. The table was really rather small, and it let him touch her gloved hand softly. She widened her eyes at him and he almost jerked himself back, but she did allow him to slip his hand inoto her gloved one. A little surprised that that had worked out, Jack then continued, "You don't need to bear this alone anymore.-" thinking he might sound a little to forward "-Look, if you ever need anyone to talk about ... this, you can tell me. I know a bit about loss myself. Trust me." He squeezed her hand encouragingly. "I believe you. About the dark figure – about the way the car crashed in and flipped. Everything.

For a good minute, Elsa didn't react to his impulsive declaration, merely staring at him. But she didn't let go of his hand even as she said with a small smile, "You're strange, you know that, Jack?"

"Coming from a girl who still hasn't told me why she wears gloves," he answered cheekily, glad that the mood had turned to something more cheery. That, and they were still holding hands. Across the tiny table, his and her locked together like an uncomfortable braid.

"Don't press your luck, Jack," Elsa chided as she stabbed her fork into the her pie, then removed her other hand from Jack's so that she could pick up the knife. "You've got stories about yourself you've yet to tell me."

"Another time, perhaps," he grinned. He was a tad disappointed that she let go, but hey, you couldn't get everything on the first try.

The first of many tries, he hoped.

~~~0~~~

 _Russian Cabbage Rolls/Golubtsi (by North)_

 _What you need:_

 _2 Head of Cabbage_

 _0.5 Cups of White Rice_

 _2 Tablespoons of Olive oil._

 _1 Large Red Onion, chopped_

 _400g of Ground beef_

 _1 Bunch of chopped Parsley_

 _2 teaspoons of Salt_

 _0.5 teaspoon of Pepper_

 _1.5 cups of Chicken stock_

 _1 cup of Sour cream_

 _1 cup of Fresh Blood_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Boil the cabbage for twenty minutes. Then peel the leaves from the stalk. Try not to damage the leaves._

 _2)Cook the rice in a pot, adding the salt in. This should take around 5-15 minutes. Drain and set aside._

 _3)In a frying pan heat olive oil and cook onions over low heat for 7-10 minutes until tender. Add beef and stir-fry._

 _4)Combine beef, onions, rice, salt and pepper on the pan. Mix well. This is the filling._

 _5)In a bowl, whisk together stock, fresh blood and sour cream. Set aside. This is the gravy._

 _6) Preheat your oven._

 _7) Add filling onto a cabbage leaf and roll it up, tucking sides in. Repeat for all the leaves. Put these into a bake-proof casserole._

 _8) Pour the gravy over the cabbage rolls in the casserole. Add parsley for garnish._

 _9)Cover the casserole with lid and bake for an hour._

 _10) Serve with additional blood if required._

~~~0~~~

"You're home late." The thick accent had given away the identity of the speaker.

Jack groaned as he climbed over the window ledge. There was no point trying to be stealthy anymore, so he landed on the polished floorboards with a loud 'thud', before turning to close the window. The large, usually jolly, man stood there watching him as he did this, his folded arms displaying clearly 'Naughty' and 'Nice'. The boy knew which category he currently fell under.

"So," North spoke once again, "this little scheme of sneaking out – that is the correct term, no? – this is not according to the rules of 'being grounded'. Do you know this?"

The boy scowled as he tugged the hood off his head. "Bunny and Tooth don't even know what 'grounded' means, okay? Bunny had started digging a hole in the ground for yesterday because he thought that I was supposed to be buried alive."

"Yes, yes, well, we all know that Bunny's...not so clever," the big man admitted scratched his bearded chin. He appraised the shoddily-dressed lad who had flown three floors up to the window. North then gestured at the door. "Jack, walk with me?"

"Can I say no?" the boy grumbled.

"Well, you can." North shrugged. "Then I will just drag your body across the floor along while I talk."

If the Guardians' house looked big on the outside, it felt even bigger on the outside. North had built the place with his own to hands, and being a fellow with imaginaton without borders and strength without limits, he had built a mansion large that was more than enough for the needs of their small family. There were plenty of rooms to store old memories, saved paintings, new recreations, and of course, the next seasons' supply of blood. The corridors were also pretty large, allowing themselves to decorated with priceless artifacts and precious objects while still providing enough space for a round-bellied man and a skinny, sullen boy to take a walk.

"Let us get down to tacks of brass, yes?" The older-looking fellow was not one to waste words. "You went out to see the girl. Is that correct?"

Jack sighed and nodded.

"Was it on a date?"

The boy cringed, before nodding reluctantly. There was no point lying about. North was one of those people with an unnatural gift for telling if people were lying. He claimed that he had had this ability long before his cursed transformation.

"Well-" the big man clasped his hands together "-how was it?"

Jack sent a peculiar look his way, not sure how to reply. "It was ... okay? I mean, she doesn't hate me or anything."

"I sense a little more than just ' _okay_ ', my dear boy." Old as he looked, North was astute in his observation skills. "Have you both kissed?"

"What? NO!" The white-haired lad was horrified, though he did recover shortly. "Well, I mean, not that I'm against the idea, but I wouldn't tell you if we did. Anyway,-" shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket and narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the elder guy "-aren't you suppose to be discouraging me? Giving me a lecture?"

"Lecture?" North snorted. "What do I look like? A college professor?"

"North." Jack paused their stroll to give him a deadpan. "You _are_ a college professor."

"Ah. Yes." He stroked his beard, nodding. "Sometimes I forget that I actually work. Funny, isn't it?"

"Anyway, back to topic,-" Jack waved away the distractions "-Bunny and Tooth have been cracking down on me ever since the whole garlic incident. Aren't you supposed to be on their side?"

North let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Jack, Jack, Jack-," there was a mix of affection and amusement in his eyes "-you do not quite understand me, do you?"

Yeah, this was just getting more and more confusing. "In what way?"

"Jack," North started them walking once again, so the boy matched his pace to his to follow, "out of all us Guardians, who has ever married?"

He took a moment for recollection. "Well, Tooth had been once, but it wasn't her choice, so she hated it. Bunny definitely never has and Sandy doesn't talk much about his old life-" He frowned "-or anything, really."

"And me?" The white bushy brows rose expectantly.

"Well, you were, but that before you got turned." Jack dug his hands down deeper into his pockets, not feeling comfortable with bringing up a topic that he felt must be painful to the older companion. He never really liked talking about his own pre-vampire days to the others for that reason.

"I got married long before I was turned, that is true," North confirmed. "But after I was turned, I was still married for ten years, until she passed away."

The boy felt a chill running up his spine when he heard that. "Did you...?"

"Eh?" It took a while for the big man to understand. "Oh, _nyet! Slava bogu!_ I was spared that – what's the word? Misfortune? Tragedy?"

"Both words are fine," Jack assured him.

" _Spasibo_. I was spared that misfortune and tragedy. She passed from natural causes. We were quite advanced in our years at the time, but only she-" North sighed with a note of sadness "-suffered the effects of it."

Their pace had slowed as the older vampire's recollections came pouring out. That, and they were running out of corridor to walk, so they had to turn around and go back down the whole length.

"Most people would kill a vampire in their family," North had continued on. "If they do not know how to kill, they would trap, or curse, or at least run from them. My dear Izolda did none of these, however. She was the one who helped me to get the curse under control, even though there were times that my burst of strength and my thirst for blood would have scared her. Her courage – that was thing to behold. There was time-" North let out a chuckle "-I was biting into the neck of this gentleman at our door, and you know what the woman did? She grabbed the axe – we had one to chop the logs, ah, firewood – and smacked it straight through my skull. Small woman, Izolda was, with shaky hands – oh, but she did it! She did it and yelled at me," _You let go of the baker, Nikolas, or you'll be baking for the rest of your miserable life! I don't care if you'll never eat a morsel of it. I still need my breakfast!"_ Another heart guffaw escaped his throat and even Jack couldn't help smiling even a little at the story.

"Oh,-" North wiped a tear from his eye, laughter still playing on his lips, but it was unmistakable - the longing that lay behind it "-to have someone like that in one's life, Jack -that is the true gift. No treasure, no power, no wealth, could ever compare to the love of a faithful companion." He grabbed the boy by the shoulder, stopping them before they took another round down the corridor again. "My dear boy, I do not wish to deprive you of finding that companion."

This was a surprising conclusion to the detour of their conversation, and a pleasant surprise, honestly, but Jack still had his reservations. The oath that he took when he became a Guardian still rang in his mind. "But, North, what about that whole thing about, you know, why we can't take mortals as our mates was because of that thing about vampires -" he made a vague gesture towards his neck.

North, however, didn't understand the reference and stared blankly at him.

"You know-" he waved more fervently at his neck, then gave up when he saw that the older fellow was still clueless. Jack rubbed the back of his neck as he said it as quickly as he could, "about vampires turning humans into vampires." There, he said it. "That's against the Guardians' code."

"Yes, for good reasons." North harrumped, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Tooth has told you her story, hasn't she?"

"Many times," Jack said, shaking his head. "She brings it up almost everytime I mention the word 'date' – even when I mean the ones on the calendar."

North snickered at that, but turned sombre almost instantly. "It's a very real problem, Jack." His tone was grim, reminding the boy of the time when Tooth had told him that North, for all his gentleness, had in his time been a fierce warrior. "Many have been unfairly turned due to the lustful appetite of that which is not living, and thus bear the curse of a murderous eternity."

"So, aren't you afraid then that-" Jack shrugged, trying to playing off how tensed the topic really was "-I might just damn some sweet girl to a 'murderous eternity'?"

"Deep down in you, I know that you're an upright _yúnosha_. You complain about the rules, but you do respect them – well, most of the important ones, at least. We forget that despite your youthful face, you have been through many trials and temptations of your own." He clapped the boy on the back with a bit more strength than necessary, making the lad lurch forward and wince. "I trust you, Jack. Just promise me that if ever the temptation - how do you say – arises, you will run. Like Tooth says, run as far as you can. The most important thing is that you never hurt anyone, and you never-" he tapped him firmly on the chest "-never hurt yourself. Can you do that?"

The boy sucked in a breath, then nodded.

" _Ho'roshij 'maljchik!_ " North beamed at him approvingly. "Now, it's getting late. You best be off to bed."

"North." Jack bore a pained expression. "I'm 306 years old, and a vampire. I don't need sleep."

"Don't be silly." North clapped him on the shoulder this time and the boy let out a hiss of pain – not that big man noticed. "It's a school day tomorrow! You'll need rest."

~~~0~~~

About twenty feet away from the Guardian home, a dark figure hid himself in the shadows.

He had been watching the mansion for a full hour, deciding how best to make his move. He had watched as the white-haired boy had climbed up the sheer falls with an agility that could not be achieved by humans. Through his binoculars, he watched as the white-haired monster spoke to another big-sized vampire. They were peculiar pack of vampires, this bunch was. He had never seen blood-suckers that were so … aesthetically neutral.

He lowered his binoculars as he keyed in his observations into his daily log, chewing on the mountain ash stick his mouth. He then raised his head towards the massive mansion once again. It was huge, undoubtedly covered with safeguards and alarm systems. If he attacked them in their home, they would have the familiarity of the environment on their side – not to mention unnatural strength and speed. From what he counted, there were at least four of them here. If he couldn't find an efficient way to incapacitate them, then any attempt would be suicide.

No, he would find another battleground. He would find a way to draw them to him, and at the right moment – blam! The stake straight through the heart.

He locked his gadgets back on his belt, hopping down from the tree branch that he had been balancing on. He then removed the wooden stick from his mouth and the switchblade from his wrist pocket. He flicked the blade open and began to shave the tip of the stick. Once the tip of the stick was nice and pointy, he added it to the quiver of that was attached to his knee.

He walked into the darkness, as if the darkness itself was his friend and not his foe.

~~~0~~~

 **I'm not actually a cook, so all the recipes here are modified version of what I read online. Please don't actually try follow the cooking instructions…or you could, and tell me how it works out. Some of the recipes here will also feature normal food with blood added into it, because, well, haemovores. Blood-eaters. Duh.**

 **I don't know why I enjoy writing this story. Plot Bunny power. That must be it.**

 **It more or less implied in this story that vampires stay the age at they were when they were turned, which is why North stays looking old and Jack stays looking young. As for North being the one married, well, I just like the thought that somewhere in his past, there was a 'Mrs. Claus' somewhere.**

 **If you enjoyed this, leave a review. If you don't, well, you could leave a review too.**

 **I'm not actually a cook, so all the recipes here are modified version of what I read online. Please don't actually try follow the cooking instructions…or you could, and tell me how it works out. Some of the recipes here will also feature normal food with blood added into it, because, well, haemovores. Blood-eaters. Duh.**

 **I don't know why I enjoy writing this story. Plot Bunny power. That must be it.**

 **It more or less implied in this story that vampires stay the age at they were when they were turned, which is why North stays looking old and Jack stays looking young. As for North being the one married, well, I just like the thought that somewhere in his past, there was a 'Mrs. Claus' somewhere.**

 **If you enjoyed this, leave a review. If you don't, well, you could leave a review too.**


	3. Chapter 3

_Czarnina Soup (by North)_

 _What you need:_

 _2 Cups of Fresh Duck Blood_

 _0.5 cup vinegar_

 _Duck meat_

 _1 cup of duck stock_

 _1/4 teaspoon marjoram_

 _Salt and pepper_

 _2 cups dried fruit (prunes, raisins, cherries)_

 _2 tablespoons all-purpose floor_

 _1 cup of Cream_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Mix fresh blood with vinegar. This prevent clotting_

 _2)Place duck pieces in a large pot and cover with adequate water. Bring to a boil then reduce heat._

 _3)Add stock, marjoram and other spice. Add salt and pepper to taste._

 _4)Boil mixture again, reduce heat and simmer for 1 hour._

 _5)Add the dried fruit. Leave to simmer for another hour._

 _6)Remove meat from bones and return to the pot._

 _7)Mix flour and sugar with cup of the duck blood in vinegar._

 _8)Pour this mixture slowly into the soup, ensuring that it is well-mixed._

 _9)Stir constantly. Add in the cream slowly too. Salt and Pepper to taste. Once the soup thickens, turn off heat._

 _10)Add parsley. Serve with bread, potato dumplings or even noodles._

~~~0~~~

"Hey, you haven't RSVP-ed yet."

He didn't answer, because his gaze was glued to his phone at the point of the time, and there was a message there from a certain blonde that he knew, _"You haven't gotten back to me on the sponsors."_

He rolled his eyes and typed back, _"Gimme a sec to check, won't you? The day just started."_

 _"Early bird catches the worm, Jack F. Guardian,"_ came the impatient reply.

He snorted. She was rather fond of addressing him by his full name. It was almost affectionate – at least, he liked to think it was. _"Alright, alright, your majesty. Don't get your knickers up in a bunch."_

 _"Knickers? What are we now? British?"_

Oops. That wasn't meant to slip out. All those years staying in Brighton must have rubbed off him. He hastily typed an excuse, _"Brits are cool, or so haven't you heard? I mean, where all do the classy British villains comes from?"_

 _"So you're a classy British villain now?"_

"Am I invisible?"

Jack's head finally jerked up to see a frowning auburn-head tapping his foot. Blushing slightly in embarrassment, he hastily switched off the screen of his phone, stuffing it hurriedly in his pocket. "Hey, Hiccup. Hi, hi."

The other boy raised a brow as he unlocked his locker. "You're acting weird – and that's coming from me."

"Well, I am strange boy," Jack quipped back at him, a warm feeling rising in his chest as he recalled time Elsa had told him that.

"Yeah, okay," Hiccup decided to give up on pursuing the matter, choosing instead to repeat his question. "So, are you going to come to the 'wedding'?"

"Ah, yeah, about that." Jack scratched the back of his head uneasily. "I'm sort of grounded, and the Guardians have been watching me like hawks. I don't think I can make it."

"Oh, it's fine," Hiccup shrugged his shoulders, glancing at his watch. "I'll invite you again ten years from now." Having removed his books from the locker, he kicked it shut with his metal foot – a foot which had a story that Jack couldn't quite remember.

So Jack asked, "How did you lose your foot again?"

"Oh, that?" The lanky teen glanced down the prosthetic attached to the end of his left limb. "Fight with vampires back in 1934."

"Ah." Right. Mortal enemies and all that nonsense.

"Anyway, heard that you've been seeing someone," Hiccup said as the two boys began their stroll towards their respective classes now. "Thought that you aren't allowed to date."

"Mortals," Jack corrected him. "Not allowed to date mortals." He fiddled idly with the strap at the end of his bag. "I think Tooth still wishes that I'd find a nice vampire girl and settle down, but considering we live in almost complete isolation from other bloodsuckers, it's not gonna happen."

"But you _are_ seeing someone, then?"

The white-haired boy couldn't bring himself to say it, so he nodded. Then he shook his head. Then he shrugged, a grimace contorting his features.

"That was … remarkably unhelpful," commented Hiccup drily.

"Okay, we've had some dinners together and hung out for stuff," Jack burst out, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fist as he did, "but I'm not really sure about the status of our relationship. I mean, I'm not even sure if we're friends!"

"Well, have you asked her?"

"No." Jack was looking at him as if he had just suggested the dumbest thing in the world. "Because she might call it quits, and then everything just goes splat."

"Well, then give her a reason not to," was Hiccup's matter-of-fact reply, sounding a little annoyed with his friend's tantrum. "Sweep her off her feet. Do something romantic this Friday."

"Friday?" Jack repeated, puzzled. "That's an oddly specific day you picked. Is there something special about Fridays that I haven't been privy to?"

Now it was Hiccup's turn to look at Jack quizzically. "Jack," he said, slowly as if he was speaking to a child, "this Friday is Valentine's Day."

"Oh?" The white-haired boy didn't seem particularly impressed with this piece of knowledge. Most of his knowledge of the day involved his locker being crammed full of heart-shaped cards, chocolates and flowers. It was always a huge hassle to clear it all out, though he did dump the chocolates with Bunny, who proceeded to consume them at a rate that Tooth disapproved of. Anyway, most of the gifts came from people he didn't know, anyway, so he supposed that they must have mixed him up with some other Jack. It was a common name after all. "So?"

"So-" Hiccup was starting to get exasperated with him, not surprising with the blank look that Jack was wearing "-get her something nice, or plan her something nice, then ask her to be your Valentine!" The bell rung at that moment, and the auburn-haired boy marched off in the direction of his classroom.

Jack hadn't noticed this however, still brooding along the corridor, rubbing his chin. "You know, I never understood that phrase. 'Be my Valentine'. Urgh." He shuddered. "It's like asking someone to a day, like 'Monday', or 'Friday'. That's kind of mean, don't you think?" He glanced towards Hiccup for an answer, only to discover that he had disappeared. "Oh, well."

It was then he noticed that he got had received a new email. He smashed his thumb against the scanner and opened up the app for his email. As it turned out, he had gotten his reply about the sponsorship. "Oh, boy…"

~~~0~~~

"They all said 'no'?"

"Every single one of them," Jack muttered disconcertedly, slouched behind the booth of the blood donation drive booth.

Anna let out a long sigh herself as she set down the latest form that they had received. Recruitment had really picked up speed, and they were edging closer and closer to their goal of five hundred donors. But all those numbers were going to be useless if they couldn't even get the money to sponsor the equipment. Jack had written in to various charity foundations and academic philanthropists, but the answers had been all a polite negative, because their blood donation drive didn't meet this little requirement, or it didn't fulfill that little criterion. It was all a bundle of bureaucratic nonsense, and frankly, the boy was quite tired of it all.

"Don't suppose your folks would like to make a contribution?" Anna asked with a slight smile, but that faded when Jack shook his head.

The Guardians had reluctantly permitted Jack to continue working in his position in the SASS, but they had made him vow (at least five times) that he would not go to school on the day of the donation drive. Nope, the Guardians were going for a hunting trip, far far away from the mortals who were going to have tubes jabbed into their veins - to find fresh blood that didn't require them to bite into human necks. That said, they still disapproved of the entire thing – mostly Tooth and Bunny, who still considered him grounded. North had been quiet of late and Sandy – well, Sandy was still the cool uncle who'd probably let him get away with anything.

"Well, we're doomed," Anna murmured, sighing again. "Have you told my sister yet?"

Jack rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye. "How am I supposed to? This donation drive means a lot to her."

It was true. Even with three others in the society to help her, Elsa was still the one caarrying the heaviest burden; getting permits for the school, reading up on blood storage regulations, making sure the rest of them did their jobs and so on. He knew that she was working herself to bone, with how exhausted she had been lately. Perhaps he could convince her to let him do more. With his nearly non-existent sleep cycle, he would be able to accomplish much more than she would, and more quickly too. But Elsa was by nature a leader, and she wouldn't appreciate his attempts to lighten her load. No, she would just sit at home and worry if he was doing a good job. She was a perfectionist – a flaw, perhaps, but it did not mar her perfection.

And with the news he was going to break to her, she was going to perfectly disappointed.

"Hello, there!" Both of the teens slumped behind the booth raised their heads to a girl with a fuzzy waterfall of hair falling over her shoulders standing in front of the booth, a clipboard in her arms. She beamed brightly at them, sticking her hand out towards them. "I'm from the Student Welfare Society."

"Yeah," Anna drawled with a raised brow while Jack shook the girl's hand. She gave the student a thorough glance. "Um, are you even seventeen?"

"No, but I'm not here to donate. Wish I could." The girl did look genuinely apologetic, but she got over it quickly enough to revert to her cheery tone. "Anyway, the Welfare Society's selling flowers for Valentine's Day. We're taking orders in advance, and we can even send them to your person of interest for a small fee."

At that, the face of the brunette girl by Jack's side suddenly lit up with interest. "Ooh! What flowers do you guys sell?"

"Just roses, but we have a few colours." The Welfare Society girl lifted her clipboard up to show them the shade of petal that they had, with the respective prices and meaning of the flowers tagged on the bottom. Anna leaned forward with interest, scrutinizing the options on the sheet, while Jack reclined back into his chair, an odd idea stirring in his head.

"Hey," he called to the Welfare Society girl, who raised her head questioningly at him. "What happens to the money that you guys earn?"

"Well,-" she seemed rather surprised at his odd, if not a little uncomfortable question, "-we use it to fund our events, of course, like the school carnival and Movies under the Stars."

"Oh, I love Movies under the Stars." Anna clapped her hand in excitement, turning to Jack. "There's nothing as ridiculous as watching a film that you've seen dozens of times under the open sky with your friends and an overpriced box of popcorn."

"Uh-huh." But Jack wasn't really listening anymore. A plan had formed in his mind, and if they could pull it off, Elsa might be the one asking him to her Valentine.

He grinned. Then frowned. He still didn't know what that ridiculous phrase meant.

~~~0~~~

"Calm down. No need to panic."

 _"How can I not panic?"_

"Because everything is under control," he spoke to the phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder, shaking his head as he lined the tray with foil. "Relax. I got this."

 _"We don't have any sponsors, Jack!"_

"Elsa, Elsa, Elsa." He clucked his tongue at her in a manner that was almost endearing. "You worry too much. Look, you just focus on your job, and I'll focus on mine. We'll get that money. I promise."

 _"I don't-"_ he could hear a shout in the background, muffled only by the clinking of cutlery and shuffling waiters. She sighed into the mouthpiece, before saying, " _Alright. I hope you know what you're doing."_

"Sure, I do." Jack heard the sound of steps coming from behind him. Not wanting to take the risk that it was either Bunny or Tooth, he decided to finish it up the call. "Okay, gotta go. Love you."

He had ripped the phone from his shoulder and hung up before it occurred to him what he had just said. Jack groaned, pressing his knuckle into his forehead. It wasn't on purpose, but then, he wasn't in the habit of saying it at all! Not even to his own family! Why, oh, why did it have to slip out with her on the phone?

That's it. Enough American Television.

"Jack?" He whipped himself around with so much force that he had almost knocked the entire dining table. He came pretty to close to knocking over the flower vase that sat on the polished wooden surface, but caught it mid-air before it tipped over. Tooth herself had jumped back in shock at his reaction, sucking in breath as she did. "Goodness! What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry," the boy murmured abashedly as he returned the vase back at its original spot. "You startled me."

Tooth shot him a look that told him that she didn't quite believe him. She then folded her arm, narrowing her eyes at him. "Who was on the phone?"

"A… friend." He didn't hide the hesitation very well.

The woman appeared sceptical and was about to say so when fortunately, a buzz from her phone distracted her. Glancing at the screen briefly, she only lifted her head to shoot him a warning look. "Well, I'm going to be out for a while." She frowned at the assortment of cooking ware that he had assembled around the kitchen, from the baking trays, to the mixing bowls to the food processors. "What are you doing?"

"Baking." He smiled beamed. "Maybe something from the cookbook, you know."

Tooth's disbelieving didn't leave her face, but she still left after that. Jack waited for a few minutes after her departure before following after her. He raced all the way to the entrance of the mansion, glancing out of the window in time for her to drive off. Grinning like mad, he whipped out his phone and dialed a new number.

"The bird has flown," Jack said. "Repeat, the bird has flown."

 _"Roger that, Captain Frost,"_ he heard Anna enthused reply.

 _"This is stupid,"_ came a background voice, deeper and gruffer than Anna's.

 _"Oh, lighten up, Kristoff."_

~~~0~~

 _Blood Brownies (by Bunny)_

 _100g of bitter chocolate_

 _1 cup blood of your choice_

 _1/2 cup brown sugar_

 _1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder_

 _2 tablespoons butter, unsalted_

 _2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract_

 _2 egg whites_

 _3/4 cup all-purpose flour_

 _1/2 teaspoon baking powder_

 _How to preheat:_

 _1)Start with preheating the oven._

 _2)Melt the chocolate in a pot over a low flame. Once liquid, stir gently to prevent burning._

 _3)Pour the melted chocolate in a mixing bowl containing the sugar, blood, cocoa powder, butter, vanilla. Mix with a mixer until smooth. This may take a minute or two._

 _4)Add in eggs white and whisk. Gradually fold in the flour and baking powder._

 _5)Prepare a baking tray. Cover it with a baking sheet and spray the sheet with canola oil._

 _6)Pour the mixture into the tray and bake for an hour._

 _7)Remove the tray from the oven and leave to cool in the open air._

 _8)Cut and serve warm with ice-cream, or refrigerator to have a hard, cakey texture._

 _Note: Eat only once a year. This is bad for your teeth._

 _Note 2: Tooth, get off my case, for goodness sake. You know my brownies are good. I see you take seconds._

 _Note 3: Bunny, I only eat them so that the rest of the Guardians don't need to suffer under your stupid stubbornness of serving unhealthy food._

 _Note 4: MY FOOD IS DELICIOUS!_

 _Note 5: But still unhealthy._

 _Note 6: Get your own page, Tooth!_

 _Note 7: Hi guys, Sandy here. Do you mind taking this lover's spat somewhere else? The page is running out of space._

 _Note 8: Sorry Sandy. We know you worked hard to compile all of this. We'll **(illegible scribbles)** and we'll **(more illegible scribbles)**._

~~~0~~~

"Wow, I can't believe that we've actually made it this far. We've managed to burn only one tray."

"Yeah, thanks to someone who wasn't paying attention." As he said it, the blonde junior student shot a glare at Anna.

She folded her arms, trying to look cross but her flour-stained shirt and her chocolate smeared nose made it difficult anyone to take her seriously. "Hey, I was answering an important message." She reached out to pick up one of the burnt brownies and bit emphatically into it. "And you can hardly taste the burn, actually."

"Important message, eh?" The odd boy called Kristoff scoffed at her. "Your precious _Hans Westergaard_?"

The girl scowled at him and Jack was certain that she might have launched herself towards him had he not instructed her then, "Hey, cut the brownies up. I need to pack them."

She shot a glare at him, but returned to her duty of slice the cakes into neat squares.

Inspiration had been drawn from the numerous hours of American television and the blissful pop-culture that surrounded that which was called 'Valentine's Day'. On this beloved day, sharp retailers jacked the prices up like you wouldn't believe, and the foolish masses bought chocolates, roses and gift cards at five times their usual cost without a blink. It was the stupidity of mankind that they now exploited, for reasons that were surprisingly noble.

They couldn't sell flowers, since the Student Welfare Society was already doing that, but they could sell decadent, chocolate-related desserts, and it so happened that Jack knew an excellent brownie recipe, written in a very special cookbook. He did remove one particular ingredient though (no prizes for guessing).

That said, he hadn't wanted them to come over to bake. Besides no dating, the other rule that the Guardians had given him was that he wasn't supposed to bring any mortal friends to their house. The mansion held many secrets and mysteries that was best left untouched, and a nosy visitor was all it could take for peace to break into chaos. But so far, Anna and Kristoff had respected the boundaries that he had set and hadn't wandered off to explore the rest of the house, though the girl had hinted strongly that she would like a tour. Still, there was much to do in very little time, so the trio had been stuck primarily in the kitchen.

Now that the brownies had all been baked, Anna had cut them up into small squares and piped an icing heart onto each square. Jack then took packed the squares into a fancy, heart-decorated plastic bag and tied it up with a bow. Kristoff was the last in the factory line, attaching a heart-shaped card to each bag which read, _'Be my sweetheart!'_

"Just looking at these makes me feel like throwing up," the blonde boy muttered, dropping another completed packet in a box, where all the other decorated bundles of brownies were sitting. He then picked up the next packet that Jack had handed to him. "Do you honestly think anyone would buy these? I wouldn't."

"That's because you have no sense of romance, Kristoff," Anna chided as she lowered her piping bag over the tray, lining a lovely heart on the next brown square. "What sweeter gesture can there be to give your true love a sweet treat?"

"True love." Kristoff snorted as he slapped the next card on with as much grace as a bulldozer. "You can't be serious."

The girl took offence at that. "Excuse me?"

"You're like, what, fifteen? What do you know of true love?"

"More than you, at least." She cast a disparaging look at him.

The rugged junior student barked a sharp laugh. "My love life level is a zero, thank you very much, but I bet I know more about love than you." A derisive escaped his throat as he muttered, "Crushing on some guy you barely now."

If looks were daggers, Kristoff would have been the pinned to the polished white tiles of the kitchen wall. Anna, burning with fury, thrust the icing-packed piping bag into Jack's hands, not caring that he almost toppled over when she did – geez, for a mortal she was strong. She marched up to the table that the blonde lad was hunched over, arms akimbo as she began to berate him for his insensitivity. In response, the blocky lad had snarked back insults of his own, which served only to anger the girl all the more.

Watching the scene unfold before him, Jack recalled the time when Anna had told him that Kristoff had not joined the SASS out of his own free-will, but that he had been coerced. He had initially thought that Elsa would have been the one to do the coercing – much like the way she had done with him – but now, with a front view seat to Anna's ferocity, he decided it was more likely that the younger sister was responsible for the other boy's unwilling membership. As he gazed at them though, Jack couldn't help but be reminded of the silly quarrels that Bunny and Tooth would have.

With the piping bag in his hand now, he had no choice but to continue her job of drawing the hearts. As he did, however, yet another bolt of inspiration struck him. Jack balanced the heavy bag in his hand, and with a precision that would have made Tooth proud, he inscribed the words his tongue would have never dared to utter.

~~~0~~~

Alright, pay up, you doubters. His idea was absolute genius.

Friday came soon enough, and they were more than ready to meet it. On that beautiful, festive day, dozens had realised that they had forgotten a special something for their partners, friends or family to celebrate. Realisation led to panic and panic lead to bad judgement, and soon students and staff were lining up in front of the blood donation booth to buy brownies.

"Sweet treats for you and your loved ones!" Anna was revelling in her duty as the promoter, waving at their booth in between handing out flyers. "Buy a brownie, save a life!"

"Give yourself diabetes at the same time," was Kristoff's sarcastic, but fortunately unheard, mutter. He had been charged with the duty of collecting of money due to his lack of social skills. It was well-placed position.

Jack, with his gorgeous white locks and his equally gorgeous teeth, gave service with a smile. Fountain poised over the blank card, he beamed at the next customer. "Who should I make this out to?"

"Oh, just write 'Mum'," the redheaded girl said, adjusting the wooden bow in her hand. Probably from the archery club. "Do you guys sell enchantments to go with it?"

Jack crooked a quizzical brow. "No…"

"Pity." The girl sniffed.

He did his duty, curling the calligraphed letters inside the card. Back in the day, he had been illiterate, signing all his papers with a 'Xs'. After the Guardians had taken him under his wing, North and Sandy had been the ones that undertook the task of giving him a thorough education. Sandy himself had taught him the variation of penmanship, from the print to the cursive to the elegant calligraphy that he was now a master of.

Jack grinned proudly at his work before folding the card and handing it to the girl, jerking his head towards the blonde boy at his side. "Pay over there."

And boom! Seven dollars. It was a rip-off. Everyone knew it was a rip-off. But they paid anyway.

"How's everything going?" A familiar voice combined with the hurried clambering over the booth brought a grin to Jack's face.

"Brilliant," he told the blonde, who was in the processes of removing her bag from her shoulder, dumping carelessly under the table of the booth. He allowed himself a minor interruption from his work to watch Elsa straighten out her crumbled blouse and readjust her messy bun, and he wondered how could it be that such ordinary actions could be so pleasing to the eye.

She caught his eye, but fortunately didn't seem to have noticed how he was looking at her. "Have we broke-even yet?"

"An hour ago," Kristoff supplied helpfully, running his pen down the account book. He then leaned forward over the counter. "F.Y.I., Guardian. There's a queue building."

It took Jack a moment to realise that he was talking to him and another couple seconds to realise that the mounting crowd of people appeared rather displeased to be held up. Embarrassed, he finally ripped his gaze from the object of his admiration and returned to writing on the brownie packet cards.

It was around four in the afternoon when they finally sold out. Kristoff and Elsa sat themselves down to count the money while Jack and Anna had the less pleasant job apologising to unhappy customers that didn't get to buy the brownies. When the disgruntled crowd finally dispersed, all four members of the SASS were huddled around the table of money when Kristoff announced the amount.

Anna was the first to cheer, jumping from her seat and twirling in mad circles. Jack followed her in doing so and somehow both of them ended up swinging each other around in an impromptu dance. Elsa herself didn't say anything, just leaning back into a chair and let out a long sigh of relief. Kristoff however still remained hunched forward, fingering the notes and scrutinising the accounts books. He finally announced, an edge in his voice, "We're missing money."

The celebration was drawn to an abrupt halt.

Elsa was the first to respond, blood draining from her face as she whispered, "How much?"

"Seven bucks."

"Well, that's not so bad," Anna put in, a small smile blooming on her face. "We still have enough to pay off the transport and the equipment, right?"

This however did remind Jack of something rather important, however, and he dove back behind the booth for his school bag, pulling out the last missing brownie cake and his wallet at the same time. From his wallet, he slapped down exactly seven dollars in front of Kristoff, startling the boy and earning peculiar looks from the rest of the team. The white-haired lad however did not notice any of these, but instead directed his attention to the blonde president of the Social Awareness Student Society.

"Er, well," he fumbled over his words, before deciding 'heck it' and he thrust the brownie packet to her. Elsa took the offering with a bewildered mien, until he jerked his chin towards it. "Read it."

She glanced down, and true enough, on the chocolate-flavoured confectionary, a bunch of words were scribbled with icing, _'Would you be my Valentine?'_

Anna, who was reading the words over her sister's shoulder, squealed in excitement. Kristoff, who seemed completely unaffected by the event, added the dollar bills to the money box and wrote down the sale in his account book. That said, Jack's eyes were only fixed on the seated girl, who was still fiddling uneasily with the gift in her gloved hands.

Her expression was unreadable, but her posture was rigid, and his heart sank when she finally tilted her head up to say, quietly, "I've got work after school."

Of course, she did. By now, he should have been familiar with her schedule. With people winding down from work and looking forward to the weekend, Friday nights would be the peak-period. Not to mention, it was Valentine's Day. The restaurants would be all packed with people. Not everyone belonged to a family that had been accumulating its wealth over the centuries, so of course, she would prioritise work over going out with some boy. There was nothing wrong with that, especially if the boy was as strange as him.

"But-" her voice broke his deflated reverie "-if you're alright with it being late, we could do something else together after I'm done."

Jack grinned so hard that it hurt.

~~~0~~~~

 _Fusilli Bolognese (by Tooth)_

 _What you need:_

 _Blood Tofu (see page 28 for recipe)_

 _Olive oil_

 _Minced Beef_

 _1 Diced Onion_

 _3 Grated Carrots_

 _3 Chopped Tomatoes_

 _2 cups of 1Beef Stock_

 _Salt and Pepper_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Make the blood Tofu according to the recipe on page 28. Ensure to pour the blood in a swallow tray. This is to form thin sheets._

 _2)Slice the hardened blood tofu into thin strips. This should form the blood fusilli to used._

 _3)To prepare the saucepan, pre-heat the skillet to medium heat. Add olive oil. Once heated, add minced beef with salt and pepper. Stir on skillet till cooked. Transfer to another bowl_

 _4)Add olive oil to saucepan. Add onions and cook, but don't caramelised._

 _5)Add grated carrots and mince meat back into saucepan. Add tomatoes and stir well._

 _6)Pour in stock. Bring to boil then reduce heat. Allow simmer for 30-45minutes. Adjust time according to thickness of the sauce._

 _7)Add salt and pepper to taste._

 _8)Pour sauce over the fusilli. Top with freshly grated parmesan if desired._

~~~0~~~

 _"How am I supposed to know? Just because I'm half of your age doesn't mean that I'll be keeping up with the current courtship practices any more than you. Heck, school is the only time I hang out with humans."_

Jack muttered a curse as he pressed the phone against his ear. His free hand was occupied with browsing the garments in his closet. He didn't know what he wanted to wear, or what he wanted to do, or why he even thought it was a good idea to ask her to be his Valentine without a plan.

Yeah, about that … what does it mean for someone to be his Valentine? Did this mean that they'll spend Valentine's Day together and that's it? Or was it more of a long term thing? Also, were they supposed to spend it as friends or as a couple? Or some kind weird mix of both? The Internet was giving him mixed definitions.

" _I'm not completely sure what the phrase means either."_

"You're absolutely useless, you know that?" Jack told him.

Hiccup sounded offended. " _Hey, you're the one who called me."_

"Because I've never dated anyone in my life, and you happen to be a steady relationship!" The white-haired lad was clenching his teeth as shoved back the shirts. Was this one too formal? Yep, it was. It'd make him look serious, and serious was not a feature he pulled off well. What about this one? The motif of puppies was cute. But she might end up bursting into laughter, and then she'll never take what he had to say seriously. He then moved on to the elegant silk kimono that Bunny had dumped on him last time and sad to say, he seriously contemplated wearing it. "Okay, if you were to take Astrid on a date, where would you take her?"

There was a pause, then – _"Do you have a dragon?"_

"No."

 _"Well, then my answer will be irrelevant in your case."_

"Jack!" A loud bellow echoed from downstairs. "Dinner's ready!"

"I'm not having dinner with you guys! Go ahead and start" he called back, before putting his ear against the phone again. "Is there anything else that you guys do together?"

 _"Well, on some nights, when we're alone at home, we like do what married couples do and…"_

"Okay, you know what?" Even though he was alone in his room and three freakin' hundred years old, a blush crept up his cheeks. "Don't tell me."

 _"…cook together, though Astrid somehow burns it. I don't know how, but she always does."_ There was a quizzical note in Hiccup's voice. _"What did you think I was going to say?"_

"Err, nothing." He forced himself to stare fiercely ahead at the clothes, face still flaming red as he shoved the clothes from one side to another.

 _"We also watch TV together, go bowling together, go rollerskating together – that's more of daytime thing, I wouldn't recommend it at night-"_

"Wait," Jack interrupted, the idea finally dawning on him. "TV! Of course!"

" _You're just going to invite her watch TV with you?"_ Hiccup sounded doubtful. _"I mean, there's nothing wrong with that, but it's kind, well, domestic?"_

"We're not watching TV." Jack rolled his eyes though the other boy couldn't see it. "We'll have dinner and go see the moving pictures together!"

 _"You mean the movies."_

"Whatever."

 _"I can't believe that you couldn't come up with this idea your own. It's the most basic date plan ever."_

Jack however ignored the jibe and told him, "I owe you one. See ya." With that, he hung up, tossed his phone and decided to go with a nice short-sleeved shirt that wasn't too dressy, but not too sloppy either. He matched it with a pair of tight-fitting pants and threw on a jacket for good measure. He was rarely cold, but in the movies he watched, the girl would always somehow be cold and the guy would somehow always have a coat to put over her shoulders. He wasn't going to miss out on that.

"Jack?" he heard a knock on his door just as he was about to fit on his shoes. "Dinner's ready." Before he could say anything, the door swung open.

He froze, like a thief that had been caught red-handed, and perhaps the description of red-handed was not inaccurate. He had been hoping to flee the house before anyone noticed what he was wearing.

Tooth's amethyst eyes rolled over his entire form, and then hardened. "Jack," she spoke in a low voice, "you're dressed up nice." Beneath the innocent statement was a subtle query.

Jack swallowed, standing himself straight before her as admitted, "Yes."

"Where are you going?" Still calm, but she had folded her arms. She was prepared for battle.

He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "Out."

"Out where?" she pressed. "With whom?"

"Dinner with friends," he lied as he grabbed his bag off the hook. As he moved towards the door though, she didn't let him pass.

"I'm not an idiot, Jack. Today's Valentine's Day."

Oh, crap. He had rather hoped that she hadn't noticed that. He pulled a surprised expression. "It is?"

"Yes." Her eyes narrowed themselves down on him. "Also, you're grounded, or don't you remember? You're not even supposed to be going out with friends."

There was something about the way she phrased it that rubbed him the wrong way. Usually, it was Bunny who did this, so if it were Bunny standing here berating him with enough ferocity to dice a carrot, he wouldn't be surprised. But Tooth – sweet, motherly Tooth - rarely pushed him this hard. "I've apologised to Bunny about the donation drive thing, didn't I?"

"That doesn't mean that you're excused from your punishment," Tooth retorted.

"Punishment?" He let out a sharp, humourless laugh. "Tooth, I'm three hundred and six years old. I may look like a teenager, but I'm hardly one."

Since she wasn't going to make way, he pushed past her, making her stumble back in surprise. A surge of guilt shot through his chest at that moment, but in his mind, he knew that she couldn't really be hurt by the gesture – physically, at least.

"Jack." There was a warning in her words.

"I'm going to be late, Tooth." He checked his watch. Elsa told him that she'd be let off at eight, which was a good half-hour from now. But if he stayed here any longer, he knew that one of the Guardians was bound to find something to occupy him through the night. [No.] No more calls to rearrange the furniture, or subject-switching, or sop-stories to make him change his mind. For once, he wanted to do what he wanted. Was that honestly too much to ask for?

"Jack, wait."

Just as he was about to descend the stairs, her fingers latched themselves around his wrist. He pulled against her grip, but she was much stronger. All the same, the boy stared fiercely down at the wall, refusing to look at her. If he did, he knew that his resolve would crumble.

But he should have not underestimated the amount of emotion that she could pour into her voice.

"Jack." A small sigh that left her lips reminded him of a time two hundred years ago, when he had lost control and had razed a mining town to ground. Tooth had embraced him while he had wept, bemoaning the curse that plagued them both. "Jack, please don't do this."

He found his head swerving towards her, just in time to feel the full force of her begging expression.

"You know why I care about this," Tooth pleaded, countenance warped in fear and misery. Oh great, now she was using the soft power. When she had first recounted her story to him, she had been so distraught by the memory of it that she had been rendered non-functional for a whole year. At the time, he had been new to the Guardians and heavily dependent on her, so when she broke down, he himself had been at a loss of what to do. It was an unspoken rule from then on to never speak of it unless necessary. He didn't know if he could honestly stand another year of that again.

So when she said to him – no, beg of him, "Please, don't go. Just stay for dinner with us. I made spaghetti – your favourite." Her other hand went to squeeze his shoulder, a gentle act that drove right into his conscience. "We're your family, Jack. You don't need anyone else." _You don't need a mortal girl._

And in a way, she was right. In the end of all things, people will age and die, but only the Guardians will be there for him.

But this was precisely the same argument that had caused him to miss the first date that he was supposed to have with Elsa. After all that time she'd spent with him, he was sure that it was building up to something - something that his interrupted adolescence had never gotten to experience. If he stood her up now, he knew she would never give him another chance.

Jack pulled away from his surrogate sister – mother, whatever role she was playing - firmly but respectfully, and continued his descent down the stairs. He could feel her eyes burning into his back the whole time.

He somehow made it through the hallway without running into any of the other Guardians. He was thankful for that, because he doubted that he could handle anymore emotional blackmail.

Jack let out a breath as he headed over to his bike. It was one of kind, built by North and given to him on the Christmas of '89. Two decades later, and the engineering masterpiece still held up against the factory made ones.

As he did, though, he heard what vaguely sounded like the shattering of glass and smashing of furniture coming from inside. Sandy wasn't going to be happy if they needed to refurbish the upstairs again.

~~~0~~~

It was half-an-hour after eight.

Don't get him wrong. He had all the time in the world to kill, but he was starting to wonder if she wasn't coming at all.

Maybe this was revenge. He had stood her up once, right? Now it was her turn to make him suffer.

Jack leaned himself back against the motorbike and sighed, looking through the glass windows of the 'Oaken's Grill' – the so-called Norwegian restaurant that was Elsa's workplace. He spotted a blonde head shuffling up and down the aisles, carrying plates back and forth all while customers waved for her attention. She hadn't noticed his presence yet. She wasn't the type to get distracted while on task. He doubted that she would really skip out an evening with him, because she was Elsa and she rarely broke her word, but if her boss was feeling nasty and didn't want to let her off at the agreed time, there was nothing she could do about it.

He had already gotten himself an ice-cream from the diner across the road. That had gone down his throat pretty quickly because it gave him no nutrition whatsoever. In his hurry to leave home, he hadn't brought the emergency bottle with him and he didn't want to risk going back. The chances that Tooth or one of the others cornering him was too high.

Bored and a little peckish, he moodily glanced across the road, at the other cluster of eateries that flanked the packed parking lots. His eyes scanned the various food options. The vegan burger place? Yeah, that would kill him. The only thing worse than no blood was no meat. The Indian restaurant? Nice place, but a bit too pricey for Elsa, and also no blood. Elsa also hated fast food, so the next two shops were crossed off the list. The Szechwan Palace wasn't too far from here, and it offered him a nice haemovorous option. But it was closed on Fridays. There was a Vietnamese place up street that offered 'Tiết canh' – a type of blood soup that was served with meat and fish sauce. The problem was that Sandy had tried the place and returned with a heavy thumbs-down for a review. If he took Elsa to a place with bad food, he might as well have stood her up.

As he gazed upon the neon lights of the car park, he suddenly noted that the doors of the fast food diner had flung open. A young couple, hands clasped, dashed through the doors, running towards the carpark. Behind them, a server in the restaurant emerged, yelling something that made the duo dissolve into chuckles as they made their way to the grey sedan parked some distance away. Even in the dim-lighting, Jack was able to make out the profile of the duo – there were some uses to being a vampire, after all.

The male of couple was a medium-height guy, broad-shoulders but not too blocky, with a neat tuft of red hair combed out nicely to match his sideburns. By his side was a girl that was definitely more than a few years younger than him. The way she swung her braids about and giggled made her look younger still.

Braids.

Jack squinted at the girl and his near perfect eyesight confirmed what he had seen.

It was Anna was holding the hand of the older redheaded fellow. It was Anna who was being ushered in the silver sedan. It was Anna was lifted her head and spotted him, and her jaw dropped in horror.

He stared at her. She stared at him.

It only stopped when the redheaded guy said something to her did she move again. She pulled the door open and sat herself down in the car seat, but the whole time, her eyes were trained on Jack.

It was then that he knew this was an occurrence that he wasn't supposed to witness. Moreover, it was an occurrence that Elsa wasn't supposed to know about.

He watched the silver sedan as it departed the parking lot, reversing to take a road that would take itself either to the town skating rink or to the dance club. As the sedan faded from view, a buzz came from his pocket and he removed the phone to check it.

 _"Please don't tell Elsa,"_ was the first message.

 _"She doesn't understand,"_ was the second.

 _"Hans is a really nice guy – a true gentleman. I don't care that he's older than me. Matured guys are better, right?"_ was what followed.

" _Please, Jack?"_ he could imagine the desperation in her voice. " _I just want my shot at true love."_

There was a part of him that wanted to text back a chide for going behind her elder sister's back, and also for advise against dating a shifty stranger (okay, to be fair, the fellow was rather decent-looking – dressed nice and everything). But just as he lowered his finger to type the first letter, it occurred to him that he was being rather hypocritical of him to do so. Serious, he was at least two hundred and eighty years older than his date, and she didn't know about the real reason behind his weird eating habits.

He typed back, " _Okay_." No approval, but no rebuttal either.

 _"Thanks, Jack,"_ was her relieved reply. " _You're a lifesaver."_

"Hey."

He guiltily hid his phone behind him, almost tripping over in himself as he stood to his feet. "Oh, um, hey."

Elsa eyed him oddly. "You alright?"

"Um, yes, yes," he said, slipping his phone into his pocket. She had changed out of her server's uniform and was wearing a blue, knee-length dress that, though extremely simple, sprung a catch his throat. He could have sworn that his palms felt sweaty, even though vampires didn't sweat. He managed to wheeze out, "You look nice."

"Thank you. You do too," she said it quite matter of factly, as this exchange was perfectly normal. It was then that he noticed her carrying two paper bags. "I got us some dinner from the restaurant. I hope you don't mind takeouts. I know it's no fancy diner, but it'd save us some money. Don't worry – no garlic."

"Oh, thanks." Elsa had handed one of the bags to him and he peered in it. Chicken sandwiches. He tried to hide his wince. Definitely no blood in that. It would be rude if he rejected the food though, so he folded the flap back down and smiled.

"What time's the movie?" she asked, taking the bag back in her hands and stuffing it in her bag. Efficient as always.

"Nine, but we can make it. We'll sneak in the sandwiches." He climbed onto the bike and motioned for her to do the same.

Elsa however shot a critical look at the vehicle, then at him. "No helmet?"

"Err…" Jack didn't know how to explain that he had never needed a helmet, that Bunny had on many occasions tried to crack his skull and couldn't (and he was really trying), so … he didn't have one.

The girl shook her head at him, but he was relieved that she climbed onto the bike behind him all the same. He could feel her thin form pressing against his back and found it oddly comfortable. And warm, too, like a well-worn woollen cloak.

"Next time, I'm only riding this with a helmet," she told him as he started up the engine. "This is a dangerous vehicle."

"Your wish is my command, your majesty," Jack answered, but secretly, he's thrilled. ['Next time' – she said, and the date hadn't even started. 'Next time'.]

He started up the engine, revelling in how she hooked her arms around his waist even before they began speeding down the road.

~~~0~~~

 _No-Churn Blood Ice-Cream (by Sandy)_

 _What you need:_

 _1 cup of blood of your choice_

 _2 cup of whipping cream_

 _1.5 cups of condensed milk_

 _1)Whip the whipping cream in a cold mixing bowl until soft peaks are formed._

 _2)Pour the condense milk into the mixture and fold gently. Blend if necessary._

 _3)Pour blood and fold into mixture. Add nuts, sprinkles or chocolates chips at this point if desired._

 _4) Refrigerate for at least 8 hours. Overnight for best results._

 _5) Scoop and serve on a hot summer day, or whenever you're just generally feeling hungry._

~~~0~~~

They managed to sneak in the sandwiches into the theatre. Thank goodness, because she was not buying their overpriced butter popcorn, no matter how good it smelled at the counter.

They had arrived just in time for the previews, and when she deemed the theatre was dark enough, Elsa gingerly removed her sandwich from her paper bag and began to consume it. Dainty, lady-like nibbles, of course.

She heard him snort beside her in amusement. "You still eat sandwiches with your gloves on?"

"Yes, I do," was her prim answer, but she wasn't really offended. By now, it was more or less established that Jack would tease her about her gloves, and she would flatly gloss over it. It was just something that they did. "Now, aren't you going to eat yours?"

"Later, perhaps," was his laid-back answer. When she glanced at him, she couldn't help but feel that he seemed a little troubled. "Not really that hungry."

"Shhh!" Someone behind was shushing them. "The show's starting."

Elsa leaned back in her chair, debating on inquiring what was wrong, but sound then flooded the theatre. She nibbled on the corner of her sandwich and resolved to ask him later.

Apparently, procrastination was becoming an increasingly common practice for her.

The film was picked by him, and it was supposed to be some cliché Cinderella type story, with very little deviation from the original tale. But to her surprise, the portrayal of the characters was rather interesting, with relationships and ideals explored quite thoroughly. She found herself sucked into the movie so completely that she never realised that she was halfway through eating his sandwiches until she glanced down at herself. Jack had been giving her odd looks throughout, though more amused than actually offended.

"Sorry." Elsa, not used to make these kind of blunders, turned crimson as she proffered the half eaten sandwich.

"It's fine." He waved her off with smile. "I'll get something later."

Their attentions then returned to the plot of the tale, watching as the main lead and love interest danced circles around one another (both literally and figuratively). Culmination of the relationship was obviously a kiss, but it was well-timed and though at heart not quite a romantic, Elsa found herself rolling her eyes and thinking ' _Finally_ '.

But of course, the course of true love never did run smooth and the lovers on the screen were separated due to a series of misunderstandings and differences in social status. Elsa grimaced as the drama played out, but she was distracted briefly by a sniffle on her side.

She cocked her head curiously at him. "Are you crying?"

"No," Jack scoffed, but his voice was shaky. He didn't refuse the packet of tissues that she offered either.

The sorrow thankfully was short-lived. The ball proceeded and the main lead made it in a gown that shimmered like magic and child-like fantasy. It was thought then that this would be where trumpets would sound, the drums would play and the couple would twirl their way into a happily ever after.

But at last! The true climax had come. Deception was revealed the most humiliating way possible. The main lead was rejected and fled the ball, while the love interest brooded in bitterness.

"What a douche," she heard her companion mutter angrily.

"Why?" Elsa asked. She did think the prince of the story had acted poorly, but she could sympathise with his reasons. "She did lie to him after all."

He pulled a face, glancing at her in disbelief. "But she clearly loves him. He has to know that. Look at her-" he waved a hand at the screen, showing the pouring rain and the crying girl "-tell me, does she honestly deserve that?"

"Perhaps not," she conceded, still doubtful. "But it doesn't negate the fact that she should have never let the deception go this far. Love is important in a relationship, yes. But if there's no honesty, how long do you expect the relationship to last?"

Silence dropped between them like a wrecking ball, smashing smithereens of awkwardness all around them. She wondered if she was a tad critical for what was just supposed to be a brainless romantic drama.

It was not really made better when he muttered, "So is that why you and Anna keep secrets from each other?"

She turned sharply towards him. "My sister and I don't keep secrets from each other."

Even under the dim lights from the screen, she could see him raise his brow at her.

"Okay, we do." Elsa crossed her arms. "But don't put this on Anna. It's more me than her."

"So you think," he muttered under his breath.

"But you didn't have to put it that way." She hadn't really noticed what he had said. "It makes it sound-" she twisted her gloved hands together "-horrid."

"You should tell her how your parents died."

"It won't do her any good," Elsa hissed back. "And when did it become your business anyway?"

"I don't know," Jack retorted, a tad too defensive for her taste. "I just thought that people in a relationship should be honest with each other. Otherwise, it doesn't matter how much they care about each other, does it?"

The way he threw the words back in her teeth stung, and Elsa couldn't help sitting a little straighter in her seat. Glaring at him, she said, "Well, it's not as if you're very honest with me."

"Oh?" There was an odd glint in his eye, as if challenging her to probe deeper.

"Somehow in all the time we've spent together, you've managed to avoid answering the questions that I ask you." It was a huge relief to let it out, all the bursting curiosity that been building within her. "What does the 'F' in your name stand for? Why didn't you want to go to the hospital last time? Why doesn't your family want you to date? And why on Earth do you still go out with me all if you're going to get in troub-"

She not sure when Jack had cupped his face in her hands, or when he had leaned towards her, so clearly she clearly didn't remember he had pressed his lips against hers. The wore off quickly though as she breathed him in and realised that he was, in fact, kissing her.

His attempt was clumsy, without doubt, inexperience with the awkward angle that he had twisted his neck and the awkward way his cold lips moved against her. But there was sweetness behind it all, full of sincerity and passion that sent an pleasant warm in her chest. Her stiff form relaxed as she let herself melt into the taste of a winter's morning. Her anger was forgotten and in its place was an odd peace. It was unlike anything she had ever known and despite herself, she wanted more of it.

And abruptly, he parted them, holding her at a length that could have almost been considered gentlemanly if his most recent behaviour was not so steeped in ardour.

Elsa blinked her eyes open, not realising that they had been closed before. The film was still playing in the background, but the only interest she had now in the flickering colours was how they danced upon the curve of his cheek, running up his smooth jaw and played against the blues of his irises – those irises that were fixed on her. She had always known that he was attractive, but it was the first time that she had realised this on her own, without the prompting of her sister or the opinions of her peers.

"Frost."

She shook her head slightly, trying to straighten out the clutter of her mind. Somehow in the duration of the kiss, her common sense had taken a stage left. "What?"

"That's what the 'F' in my name stands for," he explained. Even in the darkness the theatre, she could see a scarlet splash rising up his neck, all the way to his ears. He was brushing back his white locks, and for the first time, she wished it were her hands doing that. They were lovely. "Frost. Like snow, or ice, just that it's, well, Frost."

"Jack Frost Guardian." Apparently, some of the neurones in her brain got a reboot, so Elsa was able to piece together a few things. "Your name sounds weird."

He chuckled, and she found it odd that she had never noticed what a pleasant sound it was. "Yeah, that's why we usually just leave it as 'F'."

"Hey, keep the volume down," an irritated whisper came from behind.

"To answer your question earlier," Jack said to her, ignoring the grumble utterly in favour of blessing her with his wondrous sapphires for eyes (why had she never noticed how incredibly blue they were? The sky should be taking notes). "Why I go out with you is because I like you. That, and-" a small hopeful, yet slightly nervous smile "-every time I look at you, I feel doing what-" there's embarrassment in his voice "-I just did."

" _Every_ time you look at me?"

He gulped, smile fading and face turning almost as pale as his hair. He nodded.

"Like how you're looking at me right now?"

He nodded, suddenly wary. She could see his posture stiffening, as if ready to flee.

Elsa resisted the urge to laugh, instead edging herself as close to him as the seats of the cinema would allow. Her gloved gently slipped into his tensed once, folding her fingers with him. "Well, why don't show me again what it is you feel like doing?"

It took him a while to register what she had said, but when it did finally dawn on him, Jack drew towards her once again, this time with more purpose but the same amount of sweetness and sincerity. She let her arms wrap around his neck the way that he allowed his tighten around her waist.

She never really got to learn how the movie ended.

~~~0~~~

"Do you mind if we stop over here?"

He had kissed her. Or was it that she had kissed him? He wasn't sure how it went happened anymore. Whether it was him first, or her first, or how long that they were at it, but bottomline was – they'd kissed.

They'd kissed, and it was more than once. Each time, it got better and better.

The film credits had finished rolling when they were finally chased out of the empty theatre. Despite facing the frowns of a very angry cleaning lady, Jack felt like he was walking on air. Even as they walked back to his bike, the exchange of sweet pecks did not end. Everytime their lips did meet, he felt a curious sensation bubbling inside of him, but not in a bad way. It was as if he had found a light in a very dark tunnel, it was making him giddy with joy.

He was a gentleman – or as gentlemanly as one could be after making out with a young lady (oh, my goodness. He had actually made out with her – and they had only started kissing just this night). So on his motorised steed, he escorted her home, with her arms looped around his waist and him wishing that he could loop his arms around her. As pleasant as the night had been, it was almost twelve and Elsa had a curfew.

As they drew down the Fjord Avenue, a narrow dirt-beaten street that was flanked by thick forestry, she asked him to stop his bike. He did as she had asked, parking the bike next to a nearby tree.

When she climbed down from the bike, he wondered if there was a reason that she had asked him to stop while they were a good distance away from her home.

"Is something wrong?" Jack asked as he descended the bike himself, leaning it against the tree trunk.

"Yes, there is." Her manner seemed grave. That was, until she grabbed him the arm and yanked him forward. Their lips met in a fashion that they have become accustomed to, but he still felt explosion of ecstasy in his chest that made his lifeless heart feel like thumping again.

When they pulled away, Elsa smiled at him in a way that he had never seen her smile before, one that made his legs feel like jelly and his insides turn to mush. "There," she said, like one who had misplaced an item and now found it. "It's a tad hard to kiss you while sitting on a bike."

Oh, how did he get this lucky?

They strolled leisurely down the road to her home, their arms hooked together and his fingers treaded between her gloved ones. They didn't say much, just a little comment on the stars in the sky, or a little on the movie they had watched. Occasionally, they would pause to kiss again, but most of it consisted Elsa leaning against his shoulder and himself trying not to implode with happiness.

This – this had to be it. The reason why he had been so drawn to her. This was the missing thing that he had been piece in the puzzle of life that he had been looking for.

There were no lights to line the road, but the moon above was big and white. Its light was bright enough to light the path, but not too bright as to ruin the mood. The crickets buzzed around them and the waving branches sang with the breeze. And it was then that Elsa spoke up, "Jack?"

"Mm-hmm?" He was in a very weird place now. One part of him was enthused beyond measure, with a desire to jump up and down and scream and yell and make ice-cream-jelly-popcorn-sandwiches (he had no idea what those were, but making them sounded great now). Another part of him however was frozen with fear, because it seemed like it was nearing midnight and the spell was going to be broken.

Elsa hesitated and their pace slowed. "I don't know if you know this, but you're the first person I've every gone out with."

"Okay." Inwardly, he was plotting out the possible ways this conversation could go. His imagination took a turn for the worse.

The hand that was not latched to his was playing with her braid. "You're also my first kiss. Ever."

"Oh." He hadn't expected that. He was pretty sure by this time, some lucky, hateful cad would have managed to lock-lips with a girl as exquisite as Elsa. He found himself liking the idea of being the first to ever share such an intimate gesture with her, and that idiot part of him blurted out, "You're mine, too."

"Really?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes." By the time he had reach the age where he had thought that girls were worth his notice, his humanity had been robbed from him. The first few decades of being 'turned' had been spent trying to get his appetite under control and after joining the Guardians, the prospect of kissing in a romantic fashion had been thrown out of the window.

"Oh." Jack could have sworn that a shy smile had crept onto her face. He had never expected to see that from her – the bold, hard-as-nails, bossy girl that he had fallen for – but he didn't mind seeing it again.

Wait, fallen for? As in… fallen in love?

But-but it was much too soon. He was definitely attracted, yes. Very attracted, if he might admit it himself. But he didn't know the slightest thing in about love. What if this wasn't what he thought it was, but just a passing infatuation? What if he was crazy and all of this was a dream?

"Jack," the seriousness of her tone brought him out of his frenzied pondering, "I need to clarify something with you."

Elsa stopped them along the road and unhooked their arms. Instead, she took two of his hands in his gloved ones, massaging his knuckles with her thumbs. She looked at him in the eye. "Jack, what is-" she glanced down briefly at their joined hands, then back on him "-this?"

He didn't understand.

Seeing his blank expression, she elaborated, sounding a little cross, "I know you've asked me out many times. I know you also asked me to be your Valentine. But-" the girl twisted his hands in hers uneasily "-I never understood what that phrase meant. Is this just for the day, or does it mean more? I've googled it before but I still don't-"

He kissed her, because he wanted to banish the worry in her voice. That, and her lips were so full and inviting.

When they broke apart, Elsa hooked a loose strand behind her ear, a bit more relaxed than before, but still concerned. "Jack, I don't do flings."

"Well, good. I don't either," came his flippant, grinning reply. Clearly he didn't, if tonight was his first kiss.

"I'm serious, Jack. I'm not Anna. I don't have puppy-love, or crushes, or have a boy for the week." Let out a breath, she continued, "I told myself long ago that I would never date someone that I wouldn't – well, someday-" she didn't look him in the eye"- marry. All the in 'sickness and health, poverty and wealth' down to the -" her voice dropped several decibels"-'death do us part'. When I play, I play for keeps."

A heavy paused fell between them the same time it really hit him what 'death do us part' really meant. If anyone was going to do the whole 'death' thing, it was going to be her.

And then he would be back to square one – no flutterings in the stomach, no unexplainable warmth, no inexplicable happiness. After knowing the taste of such, he couldn't possible go back to how things were before.

What was he getting himself into?

"I need to know what this is to you, Jack," she was still going on, ignorant to storm of thoughts that raged his mind. "If this is just some-last minute romance before our high school lives end, then, well, you best find someone else." Her words quivered, as if she hadn't wanted to say what she had said.

He had gone mute, troubled notions swirling in his head as the reality came crashing down. How long could he really expect to keep this – this 'thing', as Elsa had so elegantly described? How long did he think he could deceive her, divert her questions and distract her with kisses? Would he allow himself to lie until the truth became impossible not to notice, when she started to age and he didn't, when his eating habits started to stir curiosity, when she finally found out about his fangs and his lack of pulse?

The clock had struck twelve and the carriage had returned to a pumpkin. The horses had turned back to mice and the gown was back to rags. The magic was gone.

"Jack?" Despite her matter-of-fact tone, he could feel her pleading expression beating against him, hoping that he would wrap her back in his arms, laugh at her for being silly and shower her with assurances that he felt as strongly for her as she did for him. He did feel the same – he just knew different.

Fortunately, they were interrupted.

Less fortunately, they were interrupted by a scream. A girlish scream.

It was coming from the road ahead, much nearer to Elsa's home. The implications of it never really occurred to him until he saw the blonde girl's horrified expression and heard her breathe out, "Anna."

She ripped herself out of him, dashing down the dirt path as quickly as her feet could carry her. Jack followed after her, careful not to reveal his superior athletic by letting reach ahead.

"Anna!" he heard her screech, and then he realised exactly what had happened. He smelled it way before he saw it.

The scent was glorious – sweet and rich, hot and fresh, the way it could only be from a recent kill of young prey. It was dripping iron-packed liquid and its deliciousness taunted him in way that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Anna! C'mon, Anna, look at me."

He snapped out of his haze momentarily, trying to refocus his eyes on the scene before. Elsa had fallen onto her knees next to her younger sister, whose limp, weak form no decorated the previously bare path. Anna's braids had been flopped ungracefully around her head as her body rested on its side. There were wounds on her, deep ones above her collar. With his superior hearing he could hear whimper in time with the trickle of blood oozing down her neck.

Oh, did he mention that the younger girl was lying in a pool of blood? Sweet, scrumptious, hot blood?

"Jack! Don't just stand there!" Elsa was glaring at him, though more out of desperation than actual anger. "Call an ambulance!" Her own gloved hands were trying clamp down on her sister's wounds without choking her. The younger girl was not quite a coherent state of mind, trying to mumble out something to the blonde, but Elsa shushed her quickly, assuring her that all would be alright. She only turned her attention from her sister to once again shout the white-haired lad, "Jack!"

He couldn't breathe – not that vampires really needed to breathe – but this time, he really, really couldn't allow himself to breathe if he was going to keep his sanity. The effects of not eating for the whole night hit him at full force and his stomach was craving for a flavour that it hadn't tasted for years. He had thought that after decades of self-control techniques, decades of practice and training, decades of following the Haemovore's Cookbook, he would know restraint. But in the face unbridled temptation, the tug in his body had never been stronger.

His very nature was calling to him now, to use his underused limbs and leap forward, to plunder and ravage the arteries of bleeding girl, and her sister too. He was ravenous, famished and he deserved to drink his fill. He needed it, after all, and what was wrong from getting things that you needed?

"Jack, what are you doing! Help me!"

A chilly sobriety suddenly slapped him in the face and he stumbled back in shock. He looked at the two girls – one that he had befriended and another whom he had fallen for. One that was dying and another who was begging for his help. He shook his head, aghast with the notions that he had been toying with earlier.

But, oh, the luxurious scarlet liquid that pumped in their veins, so vibrant and alive. It wouldn't hurt much, would it, to have one taste? It wasn't as if the younger bloodbag wasn't already on her way to-

 _"Jack, run!"_

It wasn't the blonde girl's voice anymore. No, it was the voice of elder man, one that he respected and respected him. The face morphed into one of a woman with emerald hair, to another guy with bushy brows, then a short round face with golden strands, and they were all screaming the same words in his skull.

" _Run, Jack. RUN!"_

And Jack spun on his heel and sprinted faster than he had ever sprinted before.

The world blurred around him as he disappeared down the road, but the scent still filled his nostrils, coaxing him to return and do what he wanted to do. He shook of the feeling the best he could, but he couldn't hold out for long. He needed to get home, where the Guardians could help him.

But in his crazy, famished state of mind, he had lost his sense of direction. He was thrashing his way through the forest – when he had left the road, he didn't know – but he was stumbling down a slope, trying to fight to urge to dart back to the scene where the girl he so admired was holding her wounded sister.

The world was a blur, of iron and darkness, of mad laughter and visceral ferocity. He was pretty sure that he heard a tree tumbling down behind him, and the animals of the wood fled from him. The last that his consciousness remembered were squeals of his kill and heat on his skin when the blood splattered over his elegant shirt.

~~~0~~~

 **Well, this was a chapter that I had been looking forward to writing. It was fun.**

 **If you know my other stories, you know I usually write Rise of the Brave Tangled Frozen Dragons stuff, with other disney characters.**

 **The film that Jack and Elsa watched on their movie is not supposed to be named, but I was thinking of 'Ever After: A Cinderella Story' when I wrote this. That said, officially, it can be any other story.**

 **Guest Mailbox:**

 **Party Poison: Haha! Glad that you do.**

 **Tellia Quoxe: Glad that you enjoyed it so far. Hope this meet expectations.**

 **Ciao! A review would be nice, but no pressure. Have a great day!**


	4. Chapter 4

_16 February 17--_

 _My darling Emma,_

 _As always, your letters are a sight for these sore-eyes. Daily I look forward to hearing from you and your progress in school. I am glad to hear that you have come to enjoy arithmetic, though I'm sorry that French is still a chore. Undoubtedly a little more practice would do you well, so cheer up, dear sister. I know you have been the smarter of us. How is Ms. Katherine? It must be difficult to be running a boarding school all on her own now that her father is gone, and you say that she has taken in two more girls? It is beyond doubt that the woman is a saint, and you may tell her that I said that._

 _(Several paragraphs have been omitted because of ridiculous length)._

 _These past few days have been difficult. The work is hard and the hours long, but do not fear for me. There is always enough bread to eat and even on some good days, one of the lads would shoot a deer. We like to roast over the fire, though some fellows prefer it stewed. But those days are far and few between. We are here in this forsaken land to labour, after all._

 _Enclosed is a ten pence that I won from one of the lads the other day. Now, I can imagine you frowning over that sentence, and I will not stop you from doing so. Gambling is tempting the devil himself and is an activity that no respectable, sensible young man should engage in. I make no excuses for this, my dear Emma, and thus I cannot bear to splurge this on myself. I only ask that you buy yourself something nice with my ill-gotten gains – like a nice pencil, or maybe a pair of stockings – and think of your scoundrel of a brother._

 _Without a doubt, I miss you greatly, dear Emma. As we work in these dreary woods, I think constantly of you and of the happier memories we had. I'm saving up the best that I can and am awaiting opportunities to go further west. Most men say that it is dangerous out there, thick with savages, unpredictable weather and dangerous creatures. I sadly do not heed them, for I am foolish, young and ambitious. We will find that home we've be looking for out there, Emma. Just think of it! A plot of land, all for ourselves. We could rear cows, sheep, chicken, anything you want! Once I get that land, Emma, I will send for you. But until then, I hope that you can continue your studies in Brighton as long as possible. It's not easy to find a school for girls here in America – at least, from what I've heard. I never had the opportunity to learn how to read and write, so digest those books, my dear Emma, and maybe one day you can teach me. Maybe you could even be a teacher yourself and start a school for girls here! Who can say?_

 _Keep me in your prayers, my dear Emma. The Lord knows I need them._

 _Affectionately yours,_

 _Jack_

"You'd better have not added anything odd in it."

The younger lad holding the pen sent a smirk to his customer. "Aw, don't you worry, Mr. Overland. You can trust me."

'Mr. Overland' drew himself up straight, sniffing doubtfully as the boy began to fold up his letter, slotting it into the envelope, folding in it the ten pence as well.

"If the money goes missing, I'll know about it," Jack warned the boy.

"Of course, Mr. Overland," the lad said, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. There was no way that Jack could make sure that he didn't snitch the money for himself, because he couldn't read nor write, and young Bernie was the only one in the lumber camp was willing to do both for him. Once a return letter from Emma came, the boy could just lie about its contents and there was no way for Jack to know what was really there or not. He could only hope that by giving the boy a little change that he could buy his honesty.

"Address it to the same place as always. Here." He dropped the coins in the boy's hands. "For the postage. You can keep whatever's left."

The young urchin's eyes widened with glee when the metal fell into his hands. "I'll do that, Mister Overland," he told the older boy with a bit too much eagerness. "You have a good evening, sir." Young Bernie then turned on his heel, picking up his lantern on his way out of camp, whistling as he moved into the forest.

"Be careful!" Jack called. "There'd dangerous beasts out there."

The lad paid him no heed, just plunging into the darkness. The older boy just shook his head.

"Overland!" He heard a call from the cluster of tents that had been a distance from the camp fire. The lanky lad turned his head accordingly and found the one calling him was one of his fellow lumberjacks. "We're going to start another game soon. Want to join?"

"Thank you, Wilson," the boy answered politely, for he had learned that it was stupid to be rude to men that were twice his age and strength. "But I think I will turn in early tonight."

"You sure, lad?" The bearded man raised his tin mug of beer to his lips, gulping down some of the liquid before addressing him once again, "Owens bought swig tonight, on the house. Don't you want a taste of it at least?"

"The offer is generous, truly." Jack smiled, before faking a yawn. "But I'm afraid I can barely-" he yawned again, making it larger and more dramatic than his previous "-keep my eyes open."

"Alright. You get some shut eye then, lad." Wilson then returned back into the tent, where rowdy voices emerged from. Jack let out a breath, glad to have escaped that. It wasn't that he minded having a free drink or two, but he knew that he wasn't a very good gambler and if he wanted to save up money, he best be more judicious in how he chose to spend the little he had.

The moon had appeared, but it could barely be seen under the thicket that the campsite was constructed under. Jack had to pick up lantern before heading towards his own camp. As he walked down the beaten dirt-path, he glanced at the tents that had been erected in between the trees and he sighed. He had never intended to come to the New World at all, but after his mother had passed away, there prospects for income in England were worse than ever. Emma had thankfully been taken in by Ms. Katherine – bless her soul – but there were no such equivalent for a lad on the cusps of manhood. Don't get him wrong – there was work back in Hampshire, but the pay was pittance and the work was tough. At least, that's what Jack thought when he had stowed away on that ship that first took him to New England. Now he was here, in an unknown woods with men that he didn't know, working himself to the bone in hopes of finding paradise. A year had gone by and he had celebrated his seventeen birthday alone. The dream home was nowhere in sight, but Jack did not allow himself to doubt. He couldn't afford to, now that he had come this far.

As he moved towards his own allocated tent – shared with another two hairy and non-too fragrant workers – he couldn't help noticing an odd scuffling noise. Jack raised his head, looking out into the forest as far as the lantern would let him. There was nothing in particular that caught his eye, so he dropped his arm, shaking his head at himself as he lifted the flap of the tent.

Then, he heard a cry – a cry that sounded like it was from a child.

The boy immediately dove into the tent, which was fortunately empty, and reached for the first rifle that he could find. He would apologise to the fellow would owned it later, but right now, there were more important things to do.

He dived into the shadowed woods, rifle in one hand and lantern in the other. He wasn't sure what he was looking forward for, so he called, "Bernie! Where are you? Bernie!"

There was a scuffling sound coming from his right, so he dashed downwards it, pushing past the foliage, hoping against hope that he would reach the lad in time.

"Bernie! Where are you? Ber-"

He stopped short, his voice torn from his throat. Against the orange glow from his dim lantern, he could make out the body of the boy who had been whistling just minutes ago in cheer. Jack darted forward, dropping the lantern onto the ground as he sank to his knees, shifting the boy's limp form. Horror sank in like a rock in the ocean.

Blood - thick, crimson and viscous - dripped from Bernie's neck, soaking into the dirty white torso. His skin was pale, cold and clammy, and his eyes were dropped shut. The blood-stained letter was clasped between his unmoving hands.

It was then that Jack noticed an odd scar on the boy's neck. He picked up the lantern and held it over the dead boy's head. It was two small holes, almost like a puncture mark.

 _Drip_.

Something wet splattered onto Jack's hand. Thinking it was a raindrop, he wiped against his sleeve. It took his a while to realise that he had just added a scarlet mark to his shirt.

 _Drip_.

He looked up and saw a crouched figure hunched in branches above him, licking its lips. Lips wet with blood.

 _Drip_.

He reached for his rifle at once, but the creature in the trees had already reached for him. Jack struggled, scuffled, fought with all of his might, but the creature had him pinned to the ground and it was cackling, screeching, laughing at his weakness.

 _Drip-drop._

Fresh blood splattered on his cheek as he grappled with the rifle. He fired straight through the creature's body, but it didn't even budge, just laughing screeching, howling like a beast in the moonlight.

 _Crunch_! That was the sound of his arm snapping backwards as the creature pressed onto his elbow, and he screamed. Yet, pain incited fury and Jack, with might that he never knew that he possessed, kicked the creature off, shoving him in the dirt. Clutching his twisted arm, Jack reached for the rifle, only to remember that he couldn't fire it with only one hand.

The creature was back to its feet once again, and Jack was surprised to find that the creature was actually thin, lean, and standing perfectly straight on to feet. As the creature stepped closer towards him nearer the lantern, Jack gasped.

The creature was a human.

Or least, it would have looked like one, if it wasn't currently wiping blood from its mouth.

"S-stay back." Jack tried to crawl back, only to find that his back had hit a tree. He lifted the rifle with his only working hand as warning, though he could only use it like a club.

The creature didn't say anything, merely cocking its head at him, it wide eyes gleaming at him, taunting him.

He heard shouts in the distance. The men at the camp must have heard the gun shots. Good, help was on the way – if he could last long enough through it.

"Y-ou won't get away with this," he told the creature, grinning slightly despite the pain surging up his crooked arm.

The hard features of the creature – boy, it was so human-like that it continued to make his hair-stand – contorted into one of amusement. Then it parted its lips and, to his surprise, began to speak, "Do you know honestly think so?"

Jack's mouth fell open in shock.

And then the creature lunged at him.

~~~0~~~

Jack awoke to the sensation of his skin burning.

" _Argggggghhhh_!" He sat himself at once, his nostrils met with the scent of burning flesh. The sun, in all of its blazing glory, did not seem the slightest bit repentant about baking him alive. His exposed torso and arms screamed in furious agony as Jack wondered if the universe had decided to help Bunny to take vengeance.

Turning himself onto his stomach, and thus allow the tattered shirt still attached to his back to protect at least his chest, he clutched hazily against the fallen leaves and the broken brambles of the forest floor, trying to crawl himself under the shade. The stinging on his skin eventually subsided and he allowed himself to slump down in relief against the ground when he realised that his clothes were soaked.

In blood.

The memory of the night before rushed into head, making him groan. The reasons for him lying in dirt returned to him. Anna – oh, no, what had happened to her? And Elsa – oh, boy. She must think him a coward, or worse. He doubted that she was ever going to talk to him again. Not to mention, he had left home abruptly and on a bad note. The Guardians were going to mad and worried. He was probably going to be grounded for the rest of his miserable life – undead life. Whatever.

At least the blood was animal blood. Still, nice little mess he had gotten himself into.

It only got worse when he realised that there was an arrow pointing at his face. He didn't even need to guess the kind of wood the arrow was made of – he could feel its effects radiating straight off it. He craned his neck up and found himself staring at a pair of cold blue eyes, outlined by a mop of frizzled red hair.

"To your feet, bloodsucker."

~~~0~~~

 _20 Feb 17-_

 _My dearest Emma,_

 _Something terrible has happened. Something … I think it is best not to write it down here. All I can say is I have not been feeling well recently. The doctors cannot help me anymore – they have never seen a condition like mine. In fact, they tell me that by the time this letter reaches your hand, I may not be around here any longer._

 _As my time on this Earth is likely to be short, I only ask you, my darling Emma, to think well of me in the times that pass and study hard. When you come of age enough, marry a good man that can provide for you and keep you safe, the way your poor excuse of a brother never could. I am only sorry that I have nothing of worth to leave to you, and even more I regret that I will never get to see your face again._

 _I love you, Emma._

 _With all my affection and remorse,_

 _Your Jack._

"Do you, Jackson Overland, admit your guilt to the murder of Bernard Wilkes?"

He coughed, one short one, then another one that broke into a throaty barrage. His entire body felt like it was on fire and he could barely put a coherent thought together.

"Your honour," he heard a deep voice speaking up. Where was he, anyway? In the corner of his vision, he noted the wooden benches and chairs, and the solemnly-dressed crowd of individuals sitting at him. Was he in a church? A schoolhouse? What was happening? "I do not think the defendant is capable of responding right now."

A courthouse. The courthouse in town – wasn't that quite a travel from the lumber house? How on Earth did he get there? He coughed again, just as fiercely and violently, and felt someone pass him a handkerchief. He nodded his thanks, but he couldn't speak.

"Perhaps we should postpone the trial," he heard the deep voice speaking once again. "Till the defendant is better."

"Your honour, you can't!" an shrill voice rang out. Jack managed to adjust his head in time to see a portly, shrunken-face man stand to his feet, red with anger. "If we allow post-pone the trial, we give this monster-" he shot a glare at Jack, making the boy shrink back – or he would have, if he had the strength for it – "more time to plot his treachery."

"Mr. Gibson." The judge, complete with white wig covering his head, frowned at the shrill-sounding middle-aged fellow. "As Mr. Leister had pointed out, the defendant is clearly unwell. He is in no shape to be 'plotting treachery', as you see."

The portly man snorted. "Don't be deceived, your honour. This weakness is just a farce – a deception that our monster has adopted to deceived us all."

Jack, whose blood was scorching more than ever, now boiled with rage. How dare this disgusting man disparage him like he was – he was –

The young man didn't know how he managed to get to his feet, since he couldn't even feel them, but he did, clutching against the table as he hollered, rasping with rage, "I am innocent!"

"Hah! He speaks after all!" the nasty prosecutor snarled contemptuously. "As you can see, your honour, the monster is more than fit to stand trial. His sickness is but a lie."

Jack could his entire face flush with heat, even as the rest of his body shuddered in cold. "Oh, you shut your mouth, you filthy-"

"Mr. Overland, calm yourself lest I hold you in contempt," the judge snapped sharply, but Jack hadn't noticed him speaking.

"-lousy-excuse of a-" an unexpected coughing fit then interrupted him, making him clutch his chest. The strength that had come to him left as suddenly as it came, and his buckling knees would have sent him collapsing onto the ground if someone had not caught him in time.

"Save your strength, Mr. Overland," a kindly voice. It was Dr. Laurens, who was the one who had treated him after the men at the camp had found him. Though he hadn't needed to, the doctor had followed him back to town and treated him in even after his transfer to prison. Dr. Laurens helped him back to his chair and Jack weakly allowed himself to recline. His eyes, now reddened and teary, fixed itself upon the prosecutor with hate and scorn.

"Forgive me if it isn't my place, Your Honour," the horrid Mr. Gibson spoke up once again, adjusting his frilly collar with an air of arrogance and self-righteousness. He stepped into the centre of the court room, turning about to face the jury. "You know the stories that have been coming from Salem," he said, stroking his oily beard. "Stories of dark creatures who have parade as respectable folk by day, but in the dark of the night, they become monsters. Child-eaters. Demon-worshippers. Blood drinkers."

A noticeable shiver spread around the room, with murmurs breaking out between pockets of people, forcing the judge to slam down the mallet several times to call the session back to order. Adjusting the ocular lens sitting on his nose, he peered down at towards the boy seated behind the table. "Are you, Jack Overland, guilty to the murder of Bernard Wilkes?"

The boy summoned all the strength he could straighten himself up his chair, barely able to focus his vision. Finally, just barely audible – "No."

"The creature lies, your Honour!" the whiny prosecutor declared, sparking an uproar behind. The judge began slamming the gavel down over and over, and each slam matched the hot throbbing that pressed against his skull.

"Mister Gibson!" He heard the judge shouting, "Do not let your preconceived notions and unproven accusations…"

Jack could hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest and he was panting. The noise flooding around him did not help matters at all. He hunched himself forward, groaning as sweat ran rivulets down his pale forehead. The only person to notice his struggle was the good doctor, who had leapt to his feet and grabbed his shoulder, asking him questions that Jack could not answer.

The boy coughed into the handkerchief he had been given, staining it red with his blood until he no longer had strength to hold it up to his mouth, until…

…until he realised he could no longer feel him heart thumping inside him.

When the defendant had suddenly slipped off his chair, slumped on the ground and unmoving like a marionette that had been released from its strings. Dr. Leister was the first to move. He placed against the unmoving chest of young man for a moment, before solemnly rising to his feet, declaring, "Mr. Overland is dead."

The courthouse erupted into an uproar once again.

~~~0~~~

He was made to wear a blindfold, and his hands were tied in front of him with what smelt and felt suspiciously like a wreath of garlic. His captor had nothing to say to him other than telling him to move forward and that if he tried any funny business, she would skewer him like a kebab. With the garlic clouding his senses and making his skin itch unbearably, Jack had no choice to comply.

It was perhaps a good fifteen minutes before she finally told him to stop. He felt his garlic hand-cuffs being removed, much to his relief as he began to scratch his hand.

"Hey, I didn't say that you move!" He felt the arrow tip poking him in the back.

"Fine, fine." Jack let his arms drop next to him. He did however start twitching his nose rapidly, hoping that he could somehow wiggle off his blindfold. It was an unsuccessful endeavour, but he did get a good whiff of the place and while it did smell rich in wood, it also had a hint of spice, old-blood, dust and … minted glossy paper?

He felt the arrow tip against his back relax, then started hearing muttered chants. He could hear her circling him as she repeated the muttered words, and he was starting to get a little impatient. Bursting out – "Are you done?"

"Shut up!" She hissed, poking him with the arrow. Ow! She had no idea how much that hurt, had she? Or she did know and she was a savage, unfeeling beast. "You're breaking my concentration."

Jack let out a low grumble, but he let her finish up all her chanting and eventually she did say, "Okay. You can take off the blindfold."

He ripped it with more force than he really needed and found himself in a candle-lit cabin. Leaves and dirt littered the creaky floorboards. Shelves were full of books and frosted glass vials. The spices he had smelled must have come from the earthenware pots that sat on the table, labelled in cursive writing - ' _Nightshade', 'Wolfsbane', 'Blood-root'_ were some. His eyes then darted to his captor, who stood with bow in hand; smallish, teenaged, but proud, and very, very redheaded.

"You're a witch." It wasn't a question.

Though short, she did try to look down at him. "You're very astute. Funny. I used to think bloodsuckers were stupid."

"The correct term is ' _vampire_ ', thank you. Bloodsuckers makes us sound like leeches and why-" he pulled against his feet, which somehow seemed glued to the floor "-can't I move from this spot?"

"Because I hexed you." She nodded to his feet and then he looked down. Around him was a mandala-like circle drawn in chalk, with various symbols patterned around it. Small candles also sat on the pointed ends of the strange circle. Noting his wide eyes and the way he dropped his jaw, she sighed and shook her head. "I take it back. Leeches are stupid."

"Now you're calling us leeches. Great." He rolled his eyes as he tried fervently to swing himself off the ground, but for all his supposedly inhuman strength did not manage to. He then lifted his head towards the witch, who was toying idly with her bow as she watched him. "Why am I here?"

"Because I want to ask you some questions. Cooperate, and I might not kill you." She let out a contemptuous sniff at him as she eyed his bloodstained clothes. "Even if I would be doing a service to society."

"Yeah, like you can make me do anyth-" he broke off what he spotted an chemistry textbook lying on the table next to a stack of dusty leather volumes. His eyes then fell to the foot of the table, where a school bag sat, strewn a rather disordered manner. A school jumper also hung off the rickety chair, with the school crest just in line with his vision. "Hey, you go to Burgess High?"

"What? How did-" she raised her bow at him, flabbergasted and furious "-so you're a psychic too, hey? Well, keep our of my head, you de-"

"I'm not reading your mind." He then noted a keychain hanging off the bag and tilted his head to get a better to look at the name written on it. " _Merrr-ride-ah?_ What kind of name is?"

"It's _Meh-reh-da,_ and I told you to stop it." She fitted the arrow on the bow, as crossed a road junction.

"I'm not reading your mind! I can't read minds!" Jack protested, waving his hands uselessly in the air. "It's not my fault you leave your stuff lying in the open like that." He jerked his chin towards the mountains of school stuff that she had left lying around.

The witch followed the direction of his gesture, the indignance draining out of her face. She even looked a little sheepish. "Oh."

"Actually, come to think about it, I think I recognise you." He squinted at her. "Were you at the bake-sale yesterday?"

"Noooo," she drawled out in a way that clearly indicated that she was lying.

"You asked me if we sold enhancements with our brownies," Jack recounted, giving her a critical look.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Shut up, bloodsucking leech!" ' _Mer-reh-da'_ – or Merida, by how it was spelt on the keychain – stomped her foot at him, face red with anger. Lowering her bow, she marched over to the shelf of spices, picking up one of earthenware pots and opening it up. From it, she scooped a small bit of powder into her hand, clenching it tight. Replacing its lid, she walked over straight up to him and without warning, blew the rust-coloured dust into his face.

"What the-" he coughed, unintentionally inhaling the particular "-what the heck are you-"

"Grounded leaves of the Moon Tree." The witch then gazed intently forward at him as she proceeded to wipe the remnant of the powder onto her pants. It then occurred to him how odd it was for a teenager high schooler to be wearing a tank top, pants and a medieval cape. It was just – well – weird. "Where you were last night?"

"On a date," he found the words tumbling out against his will. But though Jack tried to hold back, details came pouring out. "It's Valentine's Day."

"With whom?"

"Elsa Arendelle." He hoped that she didn't happen to know the blonde.

"Where?"

"At the cinema." How were the words coming out of his mouth? What was in that powder?

"Is that the only place you went on your date?"

He bit his tongue, but that didn't keep his mouth from chatting. She must have hoaxed him with that blasted powder. This was why Bunny had always warned him against witches. They were always a problem. "I sent her back to her home."

"Where?"

This was a breach of privacy, but of course, nothing was right about this picture. He was being interrogated by a witch who also happened to a teenager and a schoolmate! Hello, universe! How was this right? "Fjord Avenue."

The name of the drive made the witch's sapphire eyes widen with interest – hmm, blue eyes, strange feature for a witch. She immediately hopped over to the table, picking up the school bag and ruffling through it. She then produced the town newspaper – The Burgess Bugle - and held it out in front of him. "Do you have anything to do with this?"

His instinct was deny it, because he was a Guardian and he knew better than to call attention to himself unnecessarily, but then he read the title, ' _BRUTAL ATTACK ON HIGH SCHOOL GIRL NEAR HOME.'_

It was accompanied a picture of the Arendelle house, with the sheriff's car and an ambulance parked by it. In the corner of the picture, he could see the back of Elsa's blonde head. She was still garbed in the dress she had been wearing during their date and his stomach knotted itself up as it occurred to him how it was thoroughly soaked in blood. A shawl had been placed over her shoulders and it hit that had he stayed with her, he would have had the opportunity place his own jacket – the one that he had ripped to shreds – over her shoulders. That had been the precise reason he had worn the coat in the first place. But no, he had run from the scene and in her eyes, it must have looked like cowardice.

That wasn't the part that bothered him the most though – no. Elsa had shared to him once a secret that she didn't even tell her sister, and it pained him to know that she must have been reliving the helplessness and anguish that she had felt upon witness her parents' death. The news article gave no information about Anna's condition, but Jack hoped against hope that she had survived. If she hadn't, if she didn't, he didn't know if Elsa could take it. It was unmistakeable how much the girl he so admired loved her sister.

The powder compelled him to admit, "Yes."

"So you were there?" Merida's brow shot up alarmingly high.

"I didn't see the attack happen, but I arrived soon after it did with Elsa." Inwardly, Jack cursed himself. With his heightened senses, he should have felt, heard or smelt something amiss before the scream emerged from Anna's lips. He should have felt the danger tingling in the air, maybe caught Anna's rapid heartbeat, or heard the cruel sneer of the attack, but he didn't. He had been so enraptured by his date that his attention to anything else had been cut off. If only – _if only_ – he could, for Elsa's sake, he could –

"Were you responsible?"

For not preventing it? _Yes_. For doing it, however – "No."

"Really?" The witch turned the newspaper towards herself, casting him a sceptical glance before beginning to read out, _"Despite the amount of blood at the scene, the victim had been found to have sustained only a small injury on her neck – two puncture marks at her artery. This has led some to call the still-at-large assailant as 'Dracula', with how the markings had been reminiscent the mythical blood-drinker."_ She halted them, gazing pointedly at Jack.

The words were ringing in Jack's head. _Two puncture marks. Two puncture marks._

There were no other vampires in Burgess. The Guardians had searched the town thoroughly before settling here, in part for security and in part out of courtesy. Some vampires were fiercely territorial about their 'feeding grounds' and the last thing the Guardians wanted to do was settle somewhere where they would have eventually face off their blood-sucking brethren due to difference in diet. That could only mean one thing.

One of the Guardians must have tried to come after him last night, after his fight with Tooth, and somehow along the way lost it - the way he had lost it with the various animals he had sucked dry in the forest the night before.

It was really his fault after all.

"I need to go home," Jack gasped at last, more to himself than to her. When he noted her expression of askance, he repeated, louder now, "I need to get home. Now."

The witch looked at him in surprise, but made no move to set do as he requested.

"Listen to me," he was pleading, but times were desperate. If she were an older wiser witch, she would know better than to turn a death ear. But this witch was clearly young, by appearance and simply by the way she carried herself, and she wasn't aware of the urgency.

Licking his lips, Jack started to explain, "Human blood is incredibly addictive to vampires – incredibly addictive. If the vampire behind this is someone that I know, he – or she-" guilt shot through his system. If it was Tooth, he would blame himself "- hasn't tasted human blood for a long time, and leaving that person alone is going to start a killing spree. If you want to save this town- " he leaned forward to grab her hands, making her yelp in surprise and regret that she stood too near him "-then _set me free_."

~~~0~~~

 _22 May 17--_

 _My darling Emma,_

 _It's been a while since you've heard from me. In fact, it is a miracle that I can write you anything at all._

 _The most peculiar thing has happened. I wish I could explain it, but I do not know how. My comprehension on the matter itself is weak. All I can say is that I have never felt so…so…ALIVE…_

When he had awoken, he had found himself buried under a sheet of ice. Indeed, a rather thick sheet of ice, for the cold season had come and frozen the lake over.

Did he mention that he was in that very frozen lake?

His legs had been tied to a giant stone at the time, which had undoubtedly dragged him to the bottom of said lake. He had however easily snapped the rope that bound him to his weight and swam immediately to the surface. It did not occur to him until much later how strange it was that he had survived under water for so long and at such freezing temperatures. It hadn't really hit him either when his body collided against the icy-surface, it should have really hurt, but it didn't. Instead, the ice above him cracked, splitting apart and letting him leapt out of the waters, out of the ice. He coughed the water out of his lungs, allowing himself to lie awhile on the ice, with the shards of splintered ice surrounding his head like a crown. He gazed up in the cold night sky and saw the moon shining down on him. It was almost comforting, except that he didn't know what he was doing here.

Eventually, he managed to pull himself to his feet, and then he noticed something when he glanced down at his reflection on the ice.

His hair was pure white.

Jack ran his hand threw his fair locks, aghast that such an odd change had occurred to him. He continued toying it with it as he made his way off the ice lake, his bare feet taking him to the solid ground instead. He then saw the sign by the lake, which read, 'Witch's Pond.'

He had heard of this place. The men at the lumber camp had told him what it had been used for, but he had thought they had been joking. Surely there were no such things as witches, and surely the people of this small settlement didn't really throw people into lakes.

Apparently, he thought wrong.

He glanced down to his uncovered feet, where one of his feet still had a circle of rope around it. He knelt down and pulled at it. To his surprise, it fell off without resistance. Blinking in wonder, he straightened himself back to his feet.

It then occurred to him that despite him being soaked to the skin on a cold, winter's night, he wasn't shivering. He didn't even feel cold.

He was however famished.

He had questions, of course. He had remembered blacking out at the court trial. So they must have finished it up, declared him guilty and decided to execute him by tossing him into a cursed lake. He was surprising indifferent to the whole chain of events, with the only matter really bothering him was the fact that he was still alive.

He was really, really hunger. He needed something to bite – something to drink ...

Oh, he must be thirsty. Hmm. Funny. He never had trouble differentiating hunger from thirst before.

He didn't know why, but he could see a cottage, deep in the woods. It was very far away, but for some reason, he could sense it, and even he could even tell the number of people in it. An old man, an old woman, a middle-aged man and…a cat. Funny how specifically he knew all those people to be there.

He began trudging in the direction of the cottage, hoping that the family would take pity on him and give him something to eat and drink.

As it turned out, the family did manage to help him out. They provided him plenty to eat and drink, but doubtfully in the way that they expected to. He left their house before dawn, his mind still in a haze and his clothes drenched blood. He was still thirsty though, and from what the family had told him, they had some neighbours living living in the north. Maybe he could pay those neighbours a visit and see if they could help fix the appetite that he had worked up overnight.

~~~0~~~

"Oh my gosh." The witch stared at the mansion. She was still wearing the tank top and the pants, though fortunately she had the sense to lose the cape. Her quiver was not looped over her back, but to her waist, and her bow was still in her hand. He noted that before she let him go that she had slipped a can of garlic powder in her belt and tied a wild rose to her throat. "You guys are the rich people who live on Lake Road."

"Yes." Jack had not wanted her to show her his home – he hardly knew anything about her, after al, and it was unwise to allow a witch to know the location of his safe haven – but she hadn't given him much choice on the matter, with how his hands had once again been bound in the wreath of garlic and the Mountain Ash arrow that she was pointing at his back. "Now can you please take this off me?"

She removed his binds and Jack massaged his wrists gratefully. He then swallowed as he took a step towards his home, but paused when he noticed that she hadn't followed him. "Don't you want to come in?"

"A house full of bloodsuckers?" The witch called Merida cocked a brow at him. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Jack shrugged. He had no idea why she had followed him anyway.

Summoning all the courage he could muster, he went down the driveway, up the porch and turned the knob. It was unlocked, so he let himself right in. He didn't make it past the entrance hallway before he was abruptly yanked up forward by his collar.

The one responsible was growling at him, rage contorting his already ugly (at least in Jack's opinion) features as he hollered into his hypersensitive ears, "I hope you're happy, you worthless twat!"

And then his body picked up and flung into the wall. Jack let out a yell, more of surprise than pain though, and he let out an ungraceful 'ommphf!' when he landed on the floor. Unsurprisingly, the wall had earned a large crack, and the floorboards had snapped from the impact of his weight, but Bunny hadn't seemed to notice the wreckage he had just inflicted, leaping forward to the boy to pick him up again.

"You imbecilic moron!" He was tossed down the corridor, this time colliding with a Ming Dynasty vase. "You vapid viper!" Up he was before he could protest, and he was slammed straight up in the ceiling, making bits of the it fall off. "You indescribably intolerable piece of excrem-"

"Bunny!" A loud holler came down from the corridor, and Jack, lying on the ground in the debris, allowed himself to let out a breath he had been holding. As he sat himself up, brushing off the dust that had crumbled onto his clothes and hair. Bunny was still mad with rage, by his expression, but the large Russian vampire was fortunately strong enough to hold him back against the wall. "Calm down."

"You calm down!" was the incensed holler. "You think that I'm about to him get away with this? He destroyed it for us here, North! He's ruined everything because of his stupid teenaged hormones!"

"Ruined it?" Jack shot back, incredulous. He got to his feet, still shaking the dust off his clothes as he approached Bunny, as dangerous as it was. "Look, I might have overestimated my self-control, but I didn't-"

"Oh, you didn't, did you?" The older vampire's eyes glittered dangerously at him. "Don't lie to us, Jack. What you did to that poor girl – you'll be lucky if she doesn't die!"

All this accusatory talk was making his insides boil. "I'm NOT lying! I wasn't the one who attacked the girl. I-"

"I told you, Jack." The voice was quiet, but despite the clamour, he heard it anyway. He saw Tooth standing at the walkway that led to the kitchen. Though her expression was placid, there was a grimness in tone that told him how truly furious she was. "I warned you that your emotions could lead to hurting people you cared about. But you didn't listen, did you?" A sharp, humorless laugh escaped her lips. "No, you just went it your own way."

Sandy, who had silently manoeuvred himself around the more emotionally-wraught members of his family, appeared next to Jack's side and proffered to him a glass of blood tea. Jack sincerely felt that it wasn't the right time to being eating anything, but Sandy signed at him, _"Just drink it. It'll make you feel better."_

So Jack took a long sip of it, sucking up all the liquid with a single breath, then handed the empty glass back to the very impressed Sandy. By then, Bunny had composed himself somewhat and North released him, but the former still held a dark glare towards Jack. As for Tooth, she was leaning against the door frame that led to the kitchen, just staring at him.

The white-haired boy finally began, "I wasn't the one who attacked Anna."

"But it happened along Fjord Avenue," Bunny protested, scowling more fiercely than ever. "That's your girl's house, isn't it? I recognised it, because I drove her back the other night."

"She probably cared about you, and you betrayed her," Tooth intoned darkly in the background.

"I was out with Elsa! Anna's her sister!" Jack yelled, gritting his teeth together before he'd be tempted throw in some swear words. Forcing himself to exhale instead, he said in a more level voice, "I was out with Elsa the whole night. When we got nearer the house, Anna, Elsa's _sister_ , was already bleeding on the ground. Elsa went to help her sister and I did what you guys told to do-" he twisted his hands together, feeling surprisingly nervous "-I ran. This -" he gestured to his blood-stained dress shirt "-is all animal blood. I swear."

The Guardians exchanged glances with one another, as if holding a silent discussion about the truthfulness of his claims. Finally, North, the de facto leader, spoke, "We believe you, Jack."

"But if you're not responsible the attack on the girl," Tooth put in, "-and we aren't either, then..."

She left it hanging, because there was only one plausible suspect to the crime.

Eventually, it was Sandy who said it through the gestures of his hands, "It seems that there are other vampires in Burgess."

~~~0~~~

 _My darling Em-_

 _My dearest-_

 _My beloved-_

 _Dear… Emma,_

 _I cannot bring myself to call yourself mine any longer. Indeed, if you knew of what I have done – what I have become – you would not call me your brother either…_

It seemed that there were other vampires in London.

"This feels wrong."

"In what way?" one of his companions asked him, emptying the wine down his throat. Jack blanched at the thought that such pricy item be wasted so frivolous on one who could not, or would not, savour it.

He had come across the duo after returning to England. Unlike the time when he had stowed himself away on the ship, he had been able to pay for an actual ticket, thanks to coin he had plundered from his deceased prey. He had felt guilty about it, since all his life he had been taught the evils of thievery. But he had also been taught not to kill.

Upon his return, Jack had managed to rent himself a respectable apartment in London, under the name 'Jack Frost'. With the bit of money in his pocket, he had purchased himself new clothes, complete with cane and hat. In the eyes of those around him, he appeared to be a respectable fellow of respectable income. This led to a number of the city's well-to-dos to invite him for their dinner parties, where they proceeded to politely interrogate him and his source of wealth. Never had he lied so much as he did in those few weeks after returning to London, so by the end of the day, the latest gossip of the idle rich was about the mysterious young man with white hair, who though shy, was a delightful character from America, who had come into a bit of money from lumber business and was travelling around England.

It wasn't too bad, but after the third week of his stay, the mad hunger that had consumed him since his untimely death had begun its gradual return. As he swallowed the fine, human sustenance his hosts had offered, he found his gaze falling longingly at their necks and too often he had missed whatever was being said to him because his ears had been filled the sounds of their beating heart. He had been confounded about how to solve his problem, until he discovered that there were others like him. They even had a name for themselves.

 _Nosferatu_ , which meant 'unclean spirit. Otherwise known as 'vampires'.

"She's a mother, for goodness sake," he hissed at his two companions. "She has two children to look after!"

He wasn't sure what was the nature of their relationship to one another – siblings, lover, heck – they might even be parent and child. In fact, they were not the kind of people he would like to keep his company at all, but he was hungry, and the two of them promised that they had a foolproof way to quench his thirst.

Apparently, their idea of 'foolproof' involved targeting impoverished widows, or any poor soul the world didn't care about.

"You appear rather tensed, Mr. Frost." The female of the pair smiled at him, drawing nearer to him as she found him fascinating. Delilah was a very pleasant looking young woman - beautiful, some might say, but increasingly Jack suspected there must be something about vampirism that made one more attractive. When he had managed to get a good, sober look at his altered appearance, he realised that it had improved drastically. It was no wonder the upper class throng had been so eager to be acquainted with him, especially the unmarried daughters. Now though, he had a feeling that the pleasing appearances served a far more sinister purpose.

"It's not right," he insisted in a low voice, just as Mrs. Bennett came shuffling back, smiling in delight at her unexpected aristocratic guests.

"I'm sorry that that this isn't much, good sirs and madam," she beamed at that while balancing to dishes in her hand. One held a pie, and the other a load of bread, and the guilt that had been rap in his heard became stronger and harder. "But this visit was so unexpected. Why! I never would have guessed-"

"Oh, please, Mrs. Bennett," the female vampire let out a little laugh, waving her silk gloved hand at the older woman. "You are too kind to indulge us."

"Please, madam," the male of the vampire, Victor, imitated the cordial manners of his counterpart, making Jack feel sick inside at how false this entire act was, "do not worry yourself on our account. In fact, do sit with us. We would like to speak with you."

"Oh." Mrs. Bennett's cheeks turned pink with surprise. In her youth, Jack suspected, she might have been quite a lovely woman. "Well, alright then." Straightening out her best apron – which itself had a patch on one corner, the woman sat herself down with her esteemed guest, though keeping herself a distance from them and bowing her head slightly. "What could I help you with, madam?"

His two companions began chatting lightly with the woman, inquiring about her life, her husband and her children. From an outsiders' view, they were the surest example of gentility and kindness, showing such amicability to a woman certainly below their station. Mrs. Bennett seemed very pleased about the generosity of attention she received from her guests and with how civilised his fellow vampires were, Jack hoped that the plot had been forgotten.

He had hoped too soon, for without warning, Victor leapt out of his seat, latching himself to the neck of his humble hostess. The victim screamed, of course, but she rapidly silenced when the female vampire launched her self forward and covered her mouth with her claw-like hands. Jack couldn't bring himself to look at them feasting so delightfully, so he averted his gaze and tried to distract himself from the sweet scent that filled his nostrils.

The sounds of struggling mixed with slurping filled the tensed air, accompanied by chortles of delight. The white-haired boy clenched his fist and jaw, summoning all of his willpower to not look – to not even consider the act. His resolve was slipping, and his body was crying for sustenance, so he spat out, "This is wrong."

The slurping sounds stopped, and though he didn't look their way, he could feel the eyes of the vampirific pair burning onto him. Victor then inquired, "Pardon?"

"We shouldn't taken advantage of her courtesy like that," Jack explained, tightening his fist harder than before. He could hear the blood dripping on the floor and resisting was actually hurting him. He grit his teeth and tried to think of something – anything that would take him far away from the pull. "It was wrong."

"So you think we're wrong," the female of the duo interjected. Jack couldn't help but turn to her when she spoke, and he saw the blood dripping down the side of cheek. She wiped it off with inside of her sleeve, where it wouldn't be seen at first notice. She narrowed her eyes at it him. "So you think it's wrong to survive?"

"Yes, no, well,-" he fumbled over himself, emotions in turmoil and oh, that smell, "-you could at least try not to enjoy it so much." He allowed himself only a fleeting glance at poor Mrs. Bennett, whose best apron was now drenched with her own blood. Blood sucking with never a clean activity.

"Not enjoy it?" Th male of the duo repeated with disgust. "My good fellow, would you rob a poor man the joy of drinking his soup after a hard day's work?"

"Or a lady from savouring her tea?" Delilah put in.

"No, but those activities don't involve hurting anyone," Jack protested.

"Oh, Mr. Frost, you are a naïve one!" The female vampire let out a shrill little laugh while exchanging knowing looks with her companion. "You honestly think that it's possible to do anything without hurting anyone?"

"For one to enjoy, another must suffer," intoned Victor, the way the reverend would read holy texts. "After all, do you think the poor man had earned his soup fairly? No, he would have robbed his friend so that he could afford it!"

"And the lady could only drink her fine tea because her husband had sold a dozen slaves to Americas!" his companion supplied with gusto.

"In the end, my good fellow, there is no true fairness." The male vampire wiped his fangs with a napkin, in a way that could almost be proper had his collar not been stained with the blood of his victims. "If you want to win, someone has to lose."

"I don't want to win," Jack muttered, twisting his hands together. "I just want-" he stopped himself. It was a desire to close to his heart – his now-unbeating heart – for him to share with this callous, amoral duo.

"Suit yourself, Mr. Frost," Deliliah said, leaning back towards the deceased victim, her fangs protruding out further as she prepared to resume her feasting. She paused however, adding, "Of course, even if you stop yourself now, was stopping you from feeding on the next blood-bag that comes your way?"

All his morals – all the good things his poor mother had instilled him – stirred a fuss in the back of his head, but their cries were deafened by the cold logic that had been presented to him, and the animalistic hunger that was boiling inside of him.

And then –

"Mama?"

The girl at the doorway was dressed in shabby white-gown. She was not very pretty, at best six years old. She was a short, scrappy thing. Though her hair was blond and her eyes were blue, she reminded him distinctly of Emma.

She took one look at the scene before her, and opened her mouth to scream.

Delilah however was too quick for that, lifting a hand before the girl. "Now, now, don't cry."

The girl's mouth was still open, but scream she did. Jack's eyes widened, confused. How was she doing this?

"Your poor mama is very ill," the woman – if a creature like her could be called one – went on, shaking her head sadly. "Would you like to see her?"

The girl had closed her mouth by now, and nodded.

"Come, then," she beckoned the child, smiling so sweetly that ill-intent could barely be seen. But Jack could see the greed gleaming in her eyes. "I won't bite."

When the child started moving towards Delilah, something inside him snapped and before Jack knew it, he flying across the table towards the evil temptress.

At the end of the night, Jack learned that even a vampire could not kill a vampire. He did however manage to hurt the duo quite badly, such that they fled snarling and cursing at him.

He however learned that rage was an emotion that blinded, and the rage of a vampire was far worst than any kind seen by a human. He spent the rest of night sobbing over the unmoving body of the little girl, whose neck was marked by his very own teeth.

~~~0~~~

"Stay in the car."

"But-"

"North's right, Jack. It's a hospital. You're still not ready for this."

The only hospital in Burgess was an hour's drive from their place, and they had gone down to place as soon as Jack changed out his bloodied shirt. Apparently, he had woken up in the forest in the morning, so after the whole debacle of being kidnapped by the witch (he hadn't mentioned her to the Guardians yet. No point worrying over nothing) and discussing (or really, arguing) with his family, it was mid-afternoon when they had arrived.

'They had arrived' didn't mean that they arrived at the hospital. Oh, no. They had stopped on the open, empty, forest flanked road about half-mile from the hospital, parked the car on the side and decided to walk the rest of the journey. They also decided to dump Jack in that car, because they knew that he didn't know how to drive it. They took all the umbrella for their walk and confiscated his hoodie, so there was no way he could follow after them without burning himself in the hot blazing sun.

"What about you? You're the one always saying that that walking amongst bleeding people is walking into the fiery hell of temptation," Jack retorted, folding his arms. He didn't care if it made him look like a petulant child – they were already treating him like one.

Bunny's lips pressed themselves together in a thin line. "Only North and Sandy would venture inside. Tooth and I will wait outside the hospital just in case."

"Just in case _what_?"

"In case we need to remove her from the place," Tooth put in quietly as she raised her umbrella over head. Since the time of his return, Jack had noticed that the usually cheerful young woman was surprisingly sombre. Her complexion, which had never seemed all that pale before, appeared so white that it was starting to clash with her viridescent hair. Mistaking him staring at her for being accusatory, she strove to defend herself, "It's a little early to say, but it's best to be prepared. If she has been turned, she'll be a threat to the other patients."

"Do not worry, Jack." North thumped his encouraging on the back. "If we see your lady-love, we will strive to defend you."

" _Or at least, tell her that you have caught a terrible flu-bug which is why you can't visit_ ," Sandy signed with a smile.

Jack winced. Yeah, Elsa would never buy it. She probably thought of him as a coward for running, and she would think him a coward all the more for not coming to visit.

"I've even prepared a present and a healing card!" North produced the said items from seemingly out of nowhere, beaming with pride at his creations. "Look, I even tied a bow on it. I will tell them you sent them, eh, Jack?"

"A 'healing' card?" Bunny glanced at North's gifts critically. "You mean a 'Get-well-soon' card."

"'Get-well' is the same as 'heal', no?" the bigger man defended.

"Yes, but the way you use it is different."

"I don't understand."

"No, of course you don't. I can't believe you've stayed decades in English-speaking countries and you still-"

So the argument exploded between the two men as they started their walk towards the hospital. Tooth followed quietly behind, not even giving Jack a glance when he waved at her. Sandy however did give Jack a sympathetic look before turning on his heel and following the rest of his companions.

And so Jack was left alone. In a car.

In the middle of nowhere.

His phone was also out of battery, because he had managed to charge it since last night. That left him with nothing to entertain him.

He removed the vacuum flask sitting in the cup-holder and twisted the lid open. There was a straw-like contraption attached to it, which he used to drink the blood tea inside. Sandy had prepared it for him, reckoning that he might still be dehydrated and hungry from fasting the night before. The little man never seemed ruffled by anything, so Jack found it hard to imagine that at some point in his life he too had been controlled by the feral ferocity of a vampire's appetite.

The boy leaned back into his leather seat and began twiddling his thumbs. It got old fast.

He opted for plopping himself down on the leather sheets, laying himself almost vertically over the backseat of the car. He noted that someone had left their notebook there. There was no name written on it and the pages were blank, so he didn't know who it belonged to, but it was entertainment. He grabbed the pen that he knew Bunnymund kept near the driver's seat and flicked the pen cap off. He then flipped the page open to empty one.

He could have doodled, or played tic-tac-toe with himself, but he didn't think of such activities at all. Instead, he found himself drafting out a letter that he could never send.

 _Dear Elsa,_

 _I'm sorry for running away yesterday, and you were also right to note that I have been keeping something from you. My family would hate it if this letter would really end up in your hands. But the fact remains that I am, in fact, an immortal haemovore._

 _What's an immortal haemovore? Well, for one, a haemovore is a blood-eater, in the sense that my body can only process blood. And immortal? Yeah…I've looked like this for the last three hundred years. We have a huge age gap._

 _Here's an awkward pause, because if any time calls for one, it would be this time._

 _Also, the sun makes my skin burn – literally. Garlic makes me feel like dying and I don't have a reflection when I pass the mirror._

 _So… basically, I'm a vampire. Surprise!_

 _And if you read this, you would probably try to kill me. Only to discover that you can't, because, well, I'm a vampire._

 _Ta-da! Feel free to hate me!_

 _Yours ever,_

 _Jack_

He stared at it for a moment, before ripping off the binder and crunching it up in his fist, tossing it onto the floor of the car.

If the Guardians had their way, he would probably never get to see her again. In their defence, he didn't honestly want to confront her after his 'cowardly' act. But not bothering to visit her sister at the hospital? Elsa would take that very badly. He could tell that she loved Anna a great deal, and he didn't have the decency to come down to show concern, it was unlikely that she would ever deem him worth her time.

 _"I don't do flings."_ And she certainly wasn't going to with a jerk like him.

Perhaps one day in the future, he would have thought best that things had turned out this way – that had quit while they're ahead. The fleeting infatuations would pass and they would continue their lives. Their lives that would diverge and never meet again.

But - _last night._

All his life, and his undead equivalent of a life, he had never had felt so alive as he had when he kissed her under the moonlight. It was better than the time when he first held a twenty-dollar bill, or when he received the first letter from Emma, or even when he sucked the life out of other poor souls. It was beyond the sweetness of cherries, yet as deep as an ocean, filled promises and hopes of good things to come.

But perhaps such good things were not meant for cursed creatures like vampires.

He heard the glass of the car window crack open suddenly and he sat up, surprised to find a small hole in the glass, with splinters lined all around it. He then noticed an arrow – or maybe, a very short arrow – sticking out of the passenger seat in front of him. He reached over to it, only to have to drop it immediately. Now, his hand started smarting in pain, a mark on his palm left where the wood had touched him.

Mountain ash.

He swung his head back towards the crack, and then it when he saw the figure, hidden by the shade of the trees, holding up a crossbow and pointing it towards him.

~~0~~

 **As you can tell, this chapter, unlike the previous, is missing a certain something that other chapters before had. That certain something should return in the next chapter…maybe. This chapter is more letter-themed.**

 **I reckon at this time I should mention that I do not intend to support/promote the occult in this story. This, like Micheal Jackson's Thriller Music Video, is meant mainly to be a ...THRILLER! THRILLER NIGHT! Da-da-da-da-da….**

 **And a kinda of romance/family drama. And hopefully a tribute to classic Gothic Horror stories. This might end up a bit like the The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen if I'm not careful (which my knowledge consists the movie I watched when I was a kid.)**

 **I'm insane for writing all this. My exams are in two weeks. I'm so dead.**

 **Reviews would be nice. Hope you guys enjoy this.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: From this chapter on, I think it's best to mention that the story might get occasionally violent. If you can sit through this chapter okay, then you're fine.**

~~~0~~~

 _Blood Pie (by Sandy)_

 _What you need:_

 _1 tablespoon of olive oil_

 _1 onion, finely chopped_

 _Minced Pork_

 _1 cup of water_

 _2 vegetable stock cubes_

 _1 cup of pork blood_

 _3 tablespoon of plain flour_

 _1 sheet of shortcrust pastry_

 _1 sheet of rough puff pastry_

 _1 egg_

 _Salt_

 _Pepper_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Add olive oil to a heat pan and let the oil heat up._

 _2)Add meat with to pan and stir fry until brown. Add water if necessary._

 _3)Next add onion. Stir until browned._

 _4)Add water, stock cubes, blood. Salt and pepper to preference._

 _5)Bring to the boil, then simmer for 20 minutes._

 _6)Mix flour with water and add to meat._

 _7)Bring to the boil again and simmer for 5 minutes._

 _8) Leave to cool._

 _9)While waiting, line a round pie plate with the short crust pastry._

 _10)Add cooled meat mixture over the pastry sheet in the plate._

 _11)Top the mixture with puff pastry. Wet the edges to seal them, trim with cutter and glaze with a beaten egg._

 _12) Bake at 230C for 1 hour. Serve with a side of coleslaw and fries if desired._

~~~0~~~

 _1:03am: I'm at the hospital with Anna. Thanks for asking._

 _1:04am: And running off._

 _1:05am: Without explaining anything._

 _1:07am: In case you haven't realised, that was your cue to start explaining._

 _1:09am: Talk._

 _1:12am: Where are you?_

 _1:13am: Or rather, where did you go?_

 _1:16am: Let me rephrase that. WHY did you go?_

 _1:24am: Hello?_

 _1:24am: Jack Flipping Guardian?_

 _1:25am: Are you reading any of this?_

 _1:30am: The doctors say that other than the neck and bruises on her shoulder, there's no other signs of injury. She'd been drugged with some kind of drug, but it's not toxic._

 _1:30am: At least, the doctors say that it doesn't seem to be._

 _1:30am: They say she'll wake up once it wears off, so now I'm just waiting._

 _1:30am: And waiting._

 _1:31am: And waiting._

 _1:31am: I was scared. Really scared. I think a bit of me still is._

 _1:31am: These are the kind of horror stories my mum used tell me when she was still around._

 _1:32am: You know, the kind about why girls shouldn't walk down streets at night alone._

 _1:33am: You're a boy though. Maybe you never heard of those stories._

 _1:35am: I'm never going to let Anna walk down anything alone from now on._

 _1:50am: The doctors are trying to chase me out of the hospital._

 _1:51am: Clearly they are idiots._

 _1:51am: Someone needs to protect Anna. What if the attacker comes back?_

 _2:01 am: They've given up on trying to move me. Took their time._

 _2:24am: Anna's just sleeping now. She's looks a bit roughed up and pale, but she's okay._

 _2:25am: I'm still a bit scared though. Why isn't she waking up if she's so okay?_

 _2:26am: What did her attacker really do to her?_

 _2:26am: Jack, what if the attacker wasn't really physical, but something else? What if she's been mentally tortured or something?_

 _2:27am: What if she trapped in a world of nightmares?_

 _2:27am: It can't be natural for a person just to be sleeping like that, right?_

 _2:28am: You know, before she passed out, she was trying to tell me something._

 _2:29am: Do you think she knows the attacker?_

 _2:29am: But if she does, and she survives…_

 _2:30am: …would he (just putting 'he' for convenience) come back for her?_

 _2:31am: He would totally come back. Oh no._

 _2:32am: Jack, I don't know where you right now, but if you could answer with anything – anything – it would make my day._

 _2:32am: Night._

 _2:33am: Well, very early morning._

 _2:37am: Jack?_

 _2:37am: Jack?_

 _2:40am: Jack?_

 _2:46am: Jack?_

 _3:00am: Jack?_

 _3:20am: You had better have answered when I wake up._

She awoke at twelve o'clock from her extremely uncomfortable armchair to find that she had received ten unread messages, 3 missed calls and 2 new emails. 2 of the messages were from Kai, informing her that he had arrived with breakfast at nine to find her still asleep next to her sister's hospital bed. Thus, he had left the sandwiches on the table nearby, and would return at one to bring lunch for her, and for Anna too if she had awoken by then.

Elsa unfolded the paper bag as she cast glance at her forlorn, still unconscious sister. Anna's pallor had not improved much and she was so still that the blonde feared that she might even be dead. Fortunately, the subtle movements of the younger girl's chest under the blankets assuaged those fears, and Elsa returned to perusing the messages on her phone.

Another two were advertisements, which she promptly deleted, and the remaining messages and calls were all from surprisingly, Kristoff, who sounded quite frantic. The media people who had been at the scene yesterday must have already reported the attack on the town's paper. The boy had spammed her a bunch of questions about Anna, before ending them off with declaration of his impending arrival. It wasn't a question but a statement.

The 2 emails were from the hospital actually, only that it was not pertaining to her sister, but to the blood donation project. She noted bitterly that she had received no messages from Jack. Of course. Now in the cold, bleak morning, the whirlwind romance under the moonlight seemed just like a dream. Perhaps that was all it was to him, and if so, that was all it was to her too. As she had told him then, she was not the kind to be in need of stomach-flutters, nor the type to harbor infatuations. She was not the type to waste time stealing longing looks and doodling hearts on notebooks.

No, that would be her sister. The romantic. The dreamer. The gullible. The victim.

It was peculiar to see her sister lie so still. Anna had always been the more active of the two of them, always hopping, skipping, jumping about – and jumping straight into danger. Even when she slept, Anna was prone to twisting about, mumbling in her sleep and unconsciously chewing on her hair until their ends split. Here, she lay unmoving and pale, like a corpse at a wake.

Elsa shook the thought out of her head. Now was not the time to be tempting fate. She reached a hand out towards her sister, hoping that the warmth of her sister's palm would tell her otherwise. The glove that covered her own two hands however was too thick and she was not able to ease her thoughts. The blonde girl hesitated, glancing furtively around her. Anna's was a private ward, and there was no sign of anyone entering. So Elsa removed the glove of her right hand and reached towards her sister's limp left. Against her own cold hands, Anna's thankfully were still warm.

She gazed down at her sister, worrying sweeping over her as she noted the bandages over her neck and her bruised skin. In this vulnerable pose, Anna's fragility and weakness had never been more apparent. But then, there were no closed doors when it came to Anna. She wore her heart on her sleeve and her thoughts were always written all over her face. Anna kept no secrets.

No, the talent for that lay in the older sister.

At that very moment, Elsa heard steps coming from outside the ward and she quickly withdrew her hand from Anna. Hastily, she fitted her glove back where it belonged as she took a step away from her sister, hands immediately clasping themselves behind her back as she lifted her head to the doorway.

The ones who came marching in were not anyone familiar to her. One was big, round-bellied and jovial-looking, with a thick white-beard for good measure, and the other was small, stout, with small hands and feet, added with a gentle tuft of gold on the top of his head.

"Ah, good afternoon," the big jovial-man greeted her, his voice low enough as not to wake Anna but loud enough for her to hear his foreign accent. He marched towards her while his companion, who carrying something that looked like a box, detoured to drop at the table by Anna's bedside. Elsa's eyes flitted to the small man suspiciously, then to the bigger one who now proffered him his hand. "You are Elsa Arendelle, correct?"

Hostility was thick in her voice as she dismissed the handshake. "No press in here. I'd rather my sister not be subject any media sensationalism, thank you."

"Oh, ho, ho." The big man chuckled, slapping his side in surprisingly good-humour. "No, we are not the press people at all. Hahaha, that you think we are!" He let out another hearty chuckle, one that seemed to bounce off the walls of the small ward. Shaking his head, the big man told her, "No, we are here to visit your sister on the behalf of Jack."

"Jack?" She hated the way her heart leapt inside her when he mentioned the name. Elsa forcibly steeled herself, trying to remember that – yes, he was a sweet boy, and yes, he was a good kisser, but all that paled in comparison to the fact that _he ran off when she needed him._ "He sent you? Who are you, actually?"

"I am North," the big man gestured to himself, before waving to the small man, "and that is Sandy." Sandy nodded at her with a small smile, before turning his attention back to her sister. "We are Jack's family."

The rest of the Guardians. This big fellow must be Jack's foster father, or as close to a father figure he would get. The small guy was…well, she would put him down as the odd uncle type. This should make sense...except that it didn't.

"Why did Jack send you?" The questions shot straight out her mouth, and Elsa couldn't help the underlying crossness injected into each syllable. "Why didn't he come himself?"

"Ah, yes." North, whose accent she had yet to place, rubbed his hands together meaningfully. He glanced towards his golden-haired companion, who was removing the contents of the box, and it seemed to be a basket arrangement of flowers with chocolates surrounding it. If Anna were awake, she would love to dig into those – chocolates, that is, not the flowers. "Do you mind if we step outside a while to speak of this?"

Elsa frowned at him. She was starting to feel that Jack's habit of acting mysterious was picked up from his elders.

"What's wrong with talking in here?" She did also want to keep an eye on her sister, just in case there was a change.

The large man peered furtively at his companion once again, before whispering to her, "There are somethings that I might say that Sandy would not approve."

The blonde girl found this puzzling, but when North beckoned her to follow him out of the ward, she did so. Part of her chided her for leaving her sister alone with a stranger, but the small fellow called Sandy seemed like a gentle fellow, and if Jack was around to talk to her, she had a feeling he might be his favorite amongst the Guardians.

It occurred to her then that Jack had really successfully managed to avoid talking about his family, while constantly probing and prying into hers.

In the corridor outside the wards, the scene was mostly quiet. The nurses went about their duties without bothering them and it was good enough a place to converse. So, clearing his throat, the big man asked her, "Elsa – do you mind if I call you Elsa? I apologise if such an address is too familiar, but Jack speaks so fondly of you that I cannot help but as if we are already acquainted."

The girl nodded, a little dumbstruck by his remark. It was no doubt just an innocent, passing comment, but part of her was a little flattered to know that Jack had spoken well of her – even if it was to a family who supposedly disapproved of him dating.

"Good." North beamed warmly, before his expression turning more grave. "Now, before I begin, I need know – what exactly has Jack told you of his past?"

She blinked as she scraped through the fragment of information he had barely hinted at. "Well, I know that something …happened." That sounded extremely lame. "He had a sister," she added at the moment.

"Yes, he did." North sighed, stroking his beard thoughtfully, no doubt pondering on how to explain this all to her. "He loved her very much. Losing her one of the hardest things he had to ever go through."

"What happened?" Her curiosity egged her to inquire. For so long, she had been in the dark about Jack's story, and now she could finally get hold of it.

But to her disappointment - "It is honestly not my story to tell, and to be frank, there are details that Jack had never told me. However-" he must have noticed her expression, for he now hastened to supply "-I can tell you that ever since that day, that horrible day when all he had was taken from him, it had scarred him in ways that cannot be repaired. Therefore, it is vital that you should not hold his seeming 'cowardice'-" it was as if he had read her thoughts "-against him. The way he acted last night is the tragic result of what had happened before."

It didn't escape her that though deep in sincerity, Jack's guardian was being purposefully vague. Eager to know more, Elsa pressed him, "Jack had once hinted that he had-" the time when she had told him about her parents surfaced in her mind "-witnessed, or experience something traumatic. Is that what happened?"

North took a moment to consider her words, before saying, slowly, "Yes. It was undoubtedly traumatic. He sometimes gets nightmares about it."

An unbidden pang of pity struck her chest. She had never really considered it before, but what if Jack had witnessed his own family killed before his eyes, or something of that nature, the way that she had? Had Anna not been her own flesh and blood, would she have spun away and fled too? Well, no, but that was because she knew how to control herself. Jack was different from her. Perhaps that was how he coped with the trauma that North hinted at (however vaguely). Perhaps Jack ran because he didn't know what else to do.

"Do talk it out with him," the bearded man requested, full of such genuine concern that seemed rooted paternal instinct. With his white beard and his blue eyes, Elsa wondered North was not Jack's biological father after all.

But there was still a question that bothered her, and she supposed now was as good a time to bring up as any. "Mr. North?"

"It is just 'North', thank you."

"Well, North." Jack's family certainly had the oddest names. "Why isn't Jack allowed to date?"

She noted that he regarded her question with much amusement. "Ah, yes." He let out a light chortle. "Well, let's just say that half the family doesn't think him mature enough to handle a relationship, while the other half disagrees."

"And which half are you on, sir?" She couldn't bring herself to call him 'North'. He was at least forty years her senior. It felt disrespectful.

North let out another guffaw. With a twinkle in his eye, he patted her affectionately on the shoulder. "Talk to him."

After that chat, the odd pair from Jack's family left. She seated herself back on the hard chair that she slept in as she glanced at her phone. There were no new messages or calls, but that didn't mean that she couldn't initiate something herself.

She went to her contact list, hit the desired number before lifting the device towards her ear. The dial tone ended quite abruptly, informing her that the number she had called was unavailable and would she like to leave a message after the tone.

Part of her told her to hang up, but the other more hopeful half, that remembered how he had grinned when he had kissed her and how his cheeks flushed when she had kissed him back, began to speak, "Hey, Jack? It's Elsa. Call me back when you can, alright?"

~~~0~~~

 _Duck Blood Salad (by Tooth)_

 _1 tablespoon of canola oil_

 _1 shallot chopped_

 _2 cups of Duck blood_

 _1 scallion, finely sliced_

 _1 handful roughly chopped cilantro_

 _10 mint leaves_

 _1 cup of Asian Pea shoots_

 _1 tablespoon of fried shallots_

 _1 tablespoon of roasted unsalted crushed peanuts_

 _1 lime, cut in half_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)In a pot, bowl the pea shoots until soft. Drain and cool._

 _2)Add the oil to pan and fry shallots until fragrant. Remove from the heat to cool._

 _3)In a shallow bowl, mix together with 0.5cups duck blood and 0.5 cups of water._

 _4)Transfer this to a mixing bowl with the pea shoots._

 _5)Add the scallion, cilantro, mint to the mixture._

 _6)Pour remaining duck blood in bowl._

 _7)Scatter salad this bowl. Garnish fried shallots, peanuts and chili if desired._

 _8)Allow the duck blood to set for 15 minutes._

 _9) Squeeze the lime juice over the salad and serve._

~~~0~~~

"Well, did you find anything?"

" _Not here."_ Sandy gestured for him to continue walking down the corridor of hospital, before leading them to an empty adjacent ward. Glancing around, the small man furtively began to gesture once again, as if fearing that an unseen spy might know sign language. _"I managed to examine the girl's neck."_

"And?" North pressed him.

" _It is true as the reports have said. Other bruises and scarring, there are only two puncture marks on her. But-"_ he lifted his hand before the larger man could interrupt _"-it's not by a vampire."_

"Not by a vampire?" North repeated a bit louder than he should have, and hastily lowered his tone as he hissed, "What do you mean?"

" _Don't get me wrong."_ Sandy grimaced. _"The marks look very much those of vampire fangs. If it wasn't for the girl's symptoms, I would have been deceived."_ Seeing that the bigger man's expecting expression, he continued. _"Her pulse is steady. Her skin is warm. Her breathing is stable."_

"It could just be that she was not turned, no?" North suggested. "That she was chosen to be a meal." That word left a bitter taste on his tongue.

Sandy shook his head. _"You and I know that victims of vampire attacks, even those not fully drained, rarely survive the blood loss. In fact, from the case notes – yes, I read them-"_ in response to North's critical mien _"-she appears to have been drugged by something. She's merely asleep, not unconscious."_

"Then, it seems that this is – what's the word – a mere ruse?" the big man murmured in astonishment. "But, why? Why such a detailed deception?"

Sandy shrugged, before adding, _"I have to say though, the bite marks are very authentic. It's almost as if the assailant had possessed the teeth, but not the capacity to suck the blood."_

"We must convene with Tooth and Bunny at once. Outside this place, of course." North eyed the empty bedroom around them distastefully, with their clean, unoccupied beds and neatly folded blankets. "The blood that has been bled in this room alone is starting to get me."

" _Agreed."_ Sandy signed in return, mouth drawn in a thin line. _"If Jack had come in here as he so desired, the sensations alone would have killed him."_

~~~0~~~

He was going to die in this disgusting weather, inside this disgusting car. No offense, Bunny.

Okay, it was offensive. Bunny, seriously -what were he thinking when he picked this thing? It was boring, tacky and its air-conditioning was extremely subpar. The heater didn't work either, but that was one of the plus points in Jack's opinion.

And now, this pathetic vehicle was his death trap.

He ducked his head and cursed as arrow after arrow flew overhead, shattering glass around him. Reflexively, his hands flew over his face to protect himself, though the glass couldn't actually hurt him.

The arrows, however …

 _SPLAWWK!_ He just managed to avoid the projectile slamming next to his head. Even though he missed it, the collective presence of the Mountain Ash arrows was starting to affect him a way he hadn't felt for a long time. He didn't know how it worked, but it did work, and people knew they worked, and had used them over centuries to ward off all kind of unholy creatures. Apparently, they were very effective on vampires, to the point that they became the most common material that stakes were made from.

This fellow – man or woman, living or undead – had cut to the chase and had the stakes shrunken down and fired off like a machine gun. Clever invention – and a bit too clever by how close it was coming to actually killing him.

He dared a glance out of the window, and immediately ducked his head as his shadow-hidden figure fired two consecutive bolts at him. From what he had managed to see, the figure was moving towards him. Jack hastily peeked out into the glaring sunlight. With his attacker reloading his weapon – a modified crossbow, apparently – he got a better profile of him. The attacker was garbed in some kind of black armor that helped him blend in the shadows, with a mask of cloth drawn over his face, save the hateful eyes that wished death upon him.

And the crossbow was raised again.

Jack drew back, as he had before, but he was really cutting it close now. One of the arrows shot at him had struck him on the side of his head and he let out a cry as blood came trickling down his head – blood that vampires rarely shed, for that which was not living was supposedly impossible to kill. A myth that this hunter undoubtedly intended to disprove.

As he clutched his head and tried to focus, it was made abundantly clear that he could not stay here. Eventually one of the arrows would hit him, or the attacker would approach him and with him trapped in the car, imprisoned by the sun blaring rays. On second thought, maybe he could risk it - he could attempt an escape to flee the car and dart out into the sun. The sun would burn his flesh, but he could bear it, right?

Then he thought about his still swollen blisters on his chest and arms from that morning, and he knew that it wasn't going to work. In his weakness, the attacker would surely strike him down.

But if he stayed here, his attacker would win out long before the other Guardians returned.

Perhaps at a point of his undead equivalent of a life, he would have surrendered. He would have been grateful even, to know that someone had the ability to eliminate him and was willing to do so. This miserable existence was after all one that he had no wish to impose on any other, and to be able to rid himself of it is was not something he held onto too strongly to.

But there was people that he needed to live for. Things that he needed to make right.

He glanced at the arrow-ridden interior of the vehicle when an idea occurred to him. Bunny was going to be really mad, but it couldn't be really helped.

Jack twisted himself about in his constrained position between the polished seats as he faced the dusty mats that covered the foot rests.

And he punched a hole through the bottom of the car floor.

Arrows came crashing overhead, sprinkling more glass and even bits of metal. The white-haired boy ignored these in favor of peeling back the metal of the floor as far as his unnatural strength would allow. He could see an assortment of metal bars and wirings. He was no mechanic, so he had no idea what they were or what they did, so he clawed them out and threw them behind him, until he could get at least one foot onto the ground.

He craned his neck up one last time to check on his assailant's position, this being more careful not to let his foe hit him. He then took a breath as he placed two hands against the car door and one of his legs through the hole at the floor of the car, resting his foot on the road. He braced himself for the nausea that would soon sweep over him.

Then, with all his might, he kicked against the road and shoved against the car. Jack hurriedly drew his leg back into the car, curling himself up in a ball as his world was inverted over and over.

And just like that, the car toppled over, first on the side, then onto the roof, then over the other side, and it rolled across the road. The attacker had not expected to abrupt change of tactics however and did not manage to remove himself from incoming collision. And, my, what a collision it was when the sedan slammed against the trees, knocking against branches and cracked back the thin trunks, snapping them back. Down the car in rolled, down the slope in of the forest floor, only stopping when its roof smashed into a solid birch. The alarms inside the car went off, complete with the signaling lights flickering madly, but oddly enough, most of the vehicle stayed largely intact.

Kicking the car door off its hinges, Jack emerged from the wreck, coughing and very glad to note that he was protected under the shade of the leaves above now. As he pulled himself out of the smattered vehicle, he glanced around for any sign of his fallen foe. While he was certain that the vehicle had slammed into the shooter, there was no sign of the armed attacker anywhere.

And then he felt horrible searing pain strike him from behind, straight through his neck.

Jack gasped – or tried to, at least – when he peered down in horror to find himself staring at a blood soaked tip of the Ash bolt. More blood came spilling out of his lips as they parted and he gagged as he clawed the wooden weapon, only to find that he couldn't even do so.

He heard a step from behind him and swung around in time to see his assailant standing on top of the vehicle, balanced over the spot where the driver's seat used to be. His armor seemed to have been damaged, probably from its collision from the car and he ripped away a body pouch that had been strapped over his chest with one hand while the other raised the crossbow at the vampire.

Jack, though in agony, fortunately possessed the capacity to think and quickly he kicked the car, knocking it back and throwing the gunman off his aim. The assailant swore as he tripped back, the bolt flying off into the sky instead as he did. The white-haired lad began to move, untangling himself from the remainder of the wreck and darting in the forest. As he ran, he reached a hand towards the projectile in his neck. Clenching his teeth then clench his teeth he grabbed onto the bolt and pulled. An incoherent gurgle and more blood escaped his lips as he felt the shaft pass through the windpipe, then the tail, before it was finally out. When he threw the bloodied bolt onto the ground, he managed to catch the clicking of the crossbow before a rain of projectile came flying towards him. Jack quickly ducked himself behind a nearby tree, a hand going over his neck as he tried to stem the bleeding. Had he been a human, the blow would have been a mortal one, but as much as he hurt, he would not die from a puncture through the neck.

That was, provided he could escape his extremely skilled and exceptionally vicious hunter.

"You won't get far, _Nosferatu_ ," a harsh voice rang out in between the shots. That was a word he had not heard in a long time, and against his own will, Jack shuddered, sending a new flare of pain through his injured neck. "Even vampires run out of blood, and when you do, I will get to you." He could hear steps onto the leaf-strewn floor of the woods. His attacker was approaching. "By the time your unholy brethren, the world will be purged of your defiling presence."

 _Articulate guy_ , Jack thought as he ripped off the low hem of his shirt and fastened it around the hole in his neck. It would be the second one today he had ruined, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The bit of cloth didn't really stem the bleeding – how could it, with the marks that the ash wood had made on him? – but it was better than nothing.

As the boy crouched down between the large roots, he glanced around him for anything that could be useful as a weapon. There by his feet lay a long branch of a tree and with his crimson-stained hands, he took it up, breaking off the unnecessary branches and leaves. This gave him a long light but strong staff, with a peculiar twisting at the end that vaguely formed a hook. It was as if the fallen branch had been waiting for him to it to a weapon.

He then heard the firing stop for a second and heard his assailant swear. Perhaps his crossbow got jammed, or maybe he run out ammunition. Either way, now was the time.

Jack leapt out of his hiding place, leaping up as high as his feet could throw him towards his assailant, whose crossbow and head at that moment had been lowered. A yell escaped the vampire's blood-leaking lips as he raised the staff high. His extreme strength and unnatural speed gave his foe no time to escape, so the staff came crashing onto the hunter's helmet striking him to the ground, cracking through the armour at the same time. Jack hastily lifted the staff up once again for another bow, but the attacker managed to roll to side and whipped out a sword to block the incoming strike. The vampire let out a growl as he tore at the sword, intending to rip it from his opponent grip and fling it away. However, the second his palm touched the shining blade, a brutal sting rang up his arm, straight through his system, making his whole body shake. Jack let out a wheeze as he let go of his staff in favour of gripping against his throbbing hand.

"Silver," was the smug explanation his foe gave as he climbed back to his feet. "Meant more for werewolves, but apparently has effects on vampires too." The boy eyes widened as he watched his assailant unfasten the helmet from his head, simultaneously lowering the scarf over his face. As he threw the damaged headgear aside, Jack could finally see his red hair that stretch to the side of his face as sideburns, and the cruel twist of his lips. "I expected more of a fight, but I guess you haven't human for a while, have you? Those fine muscles of yours have been wasting."

And he immediately realised that he had seen this man just the night before, holding onto Anna's hand.

"You're Hans," he croaked, blood spurting from his throat as he tried to speak.

The cruel lips stretched themselves into a full grin. "And you're Jack."

"You-" he tightened his hold on his still trembling hand, feeling the blood from his neck dripping through his make-shift bandage and into his shirt "-she was – you were-" the truth dawned on him as fury flooded his chest "-Anna, she – you-"

"Yes," came the arrogant confirmation, for his assailant knew what he meant even from his jumbled speech. "There was no vampire."

That cockiness in his tone and the absolute nonchalance of his manner made his boiling insides leap straight into an explosion. "You!" Through his bleeding throat, he rasped sharply, "She cared about you! She-"

"-was foolish and gullible as young girls often are," Hans sneered as he advanced towards Jack. The boy stepped back, the twitching of his hand still not settling and the loss of blood was starting to make his vision go hazy. "Fortunately, she was not completely useless if she could lead you to me."

"B-but-" he stumbled backwards over a stone, or maybe it was a tree root. Still, Jack tried to crawl back, his hands searching the ground for something – anything that he could use against his foe "-but why? Seems pretty unnecessary."

Hans just shrugged. "Bait. I needed to get you isolated - Away from your accursed brethren, away from civilised human society. The road between the hospital and the centre of town seemed like a good place."

Incredulity was written all over the white-haired boy's face. "And you don't care that she might have _died_?"

"My job is to remove vampires, not save people." At that moment, Hans brought down his blade, slashing him across his knee. Jack let out a pained yelp, his movement slowed as the throbbing sensation in his hand now ran through his leg. His back knocked against another tree – a tree that he could probably uproot and swing against his foe if he had been in the prime of his health. But now, this tree was just a hindrance, and a hindrance that allowed him to be cornered.

It was then that he saw the tattoo on Hans' exposed wrist. The letters _VH_ interlocked in a wreath of wild roses _._ Hans noted the direction of Jack's gaze and he grinned. "Yes. I suppose I should mention that we have suspected vampire presence here for a while. Thank you for proving us right."

 _VH_ , as in the initial of Van Helsing. As in the Van Helsing Brotherhood. As in the international society of fanatic assassins that dedicated themselves to the elimination of unnatural creatures including, but limited to, vampires.

"You see this?" He noted in his shifty vision Hans pulling put what appeared to be a chain from a pouch around his waist. When Jack squinted, he could see that it was appeared to be a chain of … teeth? "This is a little collection of mine. I like to keep mementos of the vampires I've slain." The redheaded man then returned the chain back to his pocket, shooting a mocking smile to his helpless victim. "I'll enjoy adding your fangs to collection, and those of your so-called 'family'."

The Guardians. They would know he was gone. If he was lucky, they would find his unmoving, bleeding body and they would know that Burgess was no longer safe for them. If he wasn't and the slayer decided to hide his body, hopefully they would suspect foul play and just leave – leave and go far, far away, where they could be safe from killers like the one hovering over him. But considering how easily Hans had defeated him, his wish was simply that – a wish.

"You're a monster," Jack spat at him through his uneven breaths, irony not lost on him.

Hans let out a cold chuckle before abruptly stabbing him in the abdomen, making him scream even with his near non-functional vocal cords. "'Tis judgement day upon thee, vile spawn of Hell," was his ruthless intonation as he twisted the blade, making the white-haired squirmed and writhe. "And now, I return to you from whence you came."

Even his agony, Jack could make out the slayer releasing his grip on the sword, reaching under his coat to remove the stake, its end already sharpened. The slayer did not come unprepared. The boy's breaths quickened the numbing paraesthesia running from his abdomen wound up to his chest, leaving him unable to even to shift himself slightly.

There was no escape – this was really the end.

Back he was mortal and died the first time, Jack never had the opportunity to really ruminate on the significance of it. After all, his thoughts then had been occupied with the injustice of his trial, not to mention the suffering he had been undergoing. However, though his pain now seemed a hundred times worse and his anger towards Hans was million times greater, he found his mind functioning quite well enough.

His memories of the last three hundred and six years ran through his mind, though more on his undead one than his mortal one. He thought of North, who had been the father figure he had never had. He thought of Bunny, who had been to him a brother, a rival, a support and a hindrance all at once. He thought of Tooth, who had showered him endlessly with maternal affection, even when laced with a hint of paranoia. He thought of Sandy, who somehow knew exactly what he needed at every moment and freely provided it in his quiet, patient way.

He thought of his peers at school who were centuries younger than him, from the sarcastic Hiccup, whose friendly nature defied the stereotype of his kin, to the naïve Anna, whose enthusiasm could not be matched by any other.

And he thought of Elsa, and how he would never have the chance to explain himself. To tell her truth.

As tip of the stake began its descent towards his unbeating heart, Jack shut his eyes.

He felt the ash wood plummet into his chest at the same time he heard a shriek of pain. His eyelids flew back open. While he was aware that a huge stake was now sitting in his chest, he did know in fact that _one_ , the stake did not hit heart. And the reason why the slayer had misaimed his strike was that, _two_ , Hans now spotted a long arrow through in his elbow.

The redhead gritted his teeth as he yanked the arrow out, cursing as he threw it on the ground. His head swerved around to see who had done it and that's when Jack heard the sound of galloping and a cry in language he didn't understand.

A coil of rope suddenly appeared, latching itself around Hans' neck. Just as the slayer began to tug against it, the rope went taut and he yelled in horror as he was jerked backwards, dragged off into the air. The rope on its own flew to a nearby tree where it hooked its free end around the branch, swirling and twirling until the redheaded man had been yanked clean off the ground. Jack's jaw fell open at the sight of his would-be assassin's limp body dangling from the tree by his neck.

The source of thundering gallops came into the wounded vampire's view in the form of a gigantic horse. Its snorted and shook its majestic black mane as its small rider jumped from it, pulling her hood down as she did to reveal her bronze curls. She darted a momentary glance towards Hans' swinging body, before hurrying over to the spot where Jack lay.

"Are you alright?" Merida asked him. "You look awful."

Jack tried to deadpan at her, but he didn't have the strength to. Even though the stake did not strike his heart, it was still made of Mountain Ash. The burning surges of pain that it sent through him combined with the numbing jitters provided by the silver sword was making his body shut down.

He felt her rip out the stake first, followed by the sword shortly after. Weakly, he winced in pain, but to be honest, the world was starting swim around him. He felt his eyelids falling shut.

He heard the young witch muttering under her breath as she tried to hoist him up – some incantation that perhaps was supposed to help. He couldn't feel the lower half of his body anymore and very soon after that, he slipped into oblivion, even as her foreign words whispered in his ear.

~~~0~~~

 _Devil's Curry (by Bunny)_

 _What you need:_

 _25 chilli peppers, seeds removed and soaked_

 _8 shallots, coarsely chopped_

 _3 stalks lemongrass, thinly sliced_

 _1 teaspoon of mustard seeds_

 _1 teaspoon of minced ginger_

 _1 teaspoon ground turmeric_

 _2 tablespoon distilled white vinegar_

 _1/2 cup of chicken blood_

 _1/4 cup cooking oil_

 _2 tablespoons of water, as needed_

 _3 tablespoon of vegetable oils_

 _1 chicken (about 1.4kg), cut into pieces_

 _4 potatoes, peeled and cut into pieces_

 _Salt to taste_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Add chilli peppers, shallots, lemongrass and turmeric into a food processor and puree until smooth. This will be the spice paste._

 _2)Heat the oil in a wok. Add mustard seeds and stir fry._

 _3)Add chilli paste. Add water and bring to a boil._

 _4)Add the chicken and chopped potato. Bring to boil then reduce to simmer._

 _5)Once the chicken is nearly cooked, pour in blood. Boil for another 10 minutes at least._

 _6)Add salt to taste. Stir in vinegar and remove from heat._

 _7)Pour into a bowl and garnish with coriander. Serve with rice or bread._

~~~0~~~

Kristoff had kept his word and came to visit. Well, if 'visit' entailed that he came with looking he wanted to kill someone, all while having a canoe paddle and a baseball bat tucked under his arm. He had handed the paddle to Elsa, who was puzzled, while himself he carried the bat as he made his way to the chair near the doorway. This was where he decided stationed himself for the next three hours, only removing himself from his spot for the occasional pee break and a glass of water. Every time someone stepped into Anna's ward, he would scowl suspiciously at the one who had entered and that person, be it a jittery nurse or a well-meaning visitor, would scuttle out of the room as quickly as they could. A tad rough the edges, but Elsa appreciated his dedication. How he acted reflected how she felt anyway.

With Anna under his supervision, the blonde girl was able to tear herself away from her sister's side. She had been here the whole day and under Kai's suggestion, she decided to take a bath at the patient's bathroom just a few doors from her sister's ward. She did so with much reluctance, but her guardian insisted, saying that it would be good to help her relax.

Relax. That word seemed so foreign to her. She hadn't been relaxed since the day she watched her parents' die. Now, she had the image of Anna lying in pool of blood ingrained in her mind, along with her other gory memories.

Once all the soap was rinsed out of her hair, Elsa turned the knob of the shower, cutting off the water. She didn't immediately step out of the shower cubicle, however. Instead, she found herself leaning her forehead against the water-dripping wall, exhaling out.

She hated this whole thing. Sure, Anna was on a road to recovery and she was in no immediate danger, but the whole incident still weighed too heavily on her mind. She still had no idea where Anna's attacker was, why the attacker had targeted her at all, and whether the attacker would return. Even though she had no doubt Kristoff would put up a fight against any threat that her comatose sister might face now, the boy was only a boy and the attacker could very well overwhelm him. She had tried to convince the sheriff to leave someone to guard her sister, but he was convinced that she was in no danger any longer and the manpower was better spent looking for the criminal. While she understood the logic, it gave her no peace of mind.

After she had dried herself off, she reached for the bag of clothes that Kai had brought her. As she dressed herself, her eyes caught on the phone that she had left in her bag. She had gotten a barrage of message from various acquaintance who inquired about her sister and after a while, she grew tired of answering them. All these people had no real stake in their questions – they had no real reason to be asking, because they didn't really know Anna, nor did they really know her. The one person that she had been still waiting for a text from had still not sent anything. She was starting to wonder if she had been wrong to listen to that North fellow, as kindly a gentleman he had been.

All the same, she picked up the phone and scrolled through the messages, hoping against herself.

And that was when a thought rang in her mind, _"Why did you care?"_

Elsa paused, a little surprised by how suddenly that came to her.

" _You don't need him. You don't need anyone."_

Well, that was true. She had never needed anyone. She had always been independent, efficient and disciplined. Why did she care so much about including in her life a person who was clearly not making that great an effort to be included?

No, that wasn't true. Jack hadn't had an easy past himself. He had his reasons and she should give him the chance to explain himself. She clearly meant a great deal to him if he had pursued her with persistence, even against his family's wishes. In all the time they had spent together, there had been no signs of insincerity. He wasn't fully honest with her, but there was no doubt that he held her in regard. In fact, from his flustered delight yesterday, she wouldn't be surprised himself that he thought himself in love with her.

" _But what do you know of true love?"_

That was the problem, wasn't it? She was young. He was young. They didn't even know what - whatever it was - between them. After she had questioned him, he had not answered. At the point of time, they had been distracted by Anna, but it didn't change the fact that he had hesitated. Part of her wish that he had would have grabbed her hand and to smile that mischievous yet innocent smile of his while promising that yes, he was in this for the long haul. But another part of her knew that even if he had done so, it would be but a burst of impulse. He could mean it at the time, but as time wore on, he might grow disinterested and jaded. Or perhaps circumstances might pull them apart. After all, once senior year was over, they might very well part ways and never see each other again.

If that's all it was, then she was cut them off. No questions asked. She had seen Anna in her moods – her heartbreaks and her sobbing episodes. She had no interest in having her heartbroken.

" _You're the very epitome of practicality as always, my dear Elsa."_ She could hear a sardonic chuckle at the back of her head, an unheard sound that sent a shiver straight down her spine. _"I knew there was a reason I liked you."_

Her eyes widened as she whipped herself around, eyes darting frantically around as she tried to find the source of the voice. There was something horrible familiar about it – horribly, horribly familiar. But in the bathing cubicle it was clear that she was alone, so Elsa shrugged it off.

Once she had all her clothes on, she unlocked the door of her cubicle and headed out to the sink. Rubbing her hair against her towel, she noted in consternation that the entire mirror had frosted itself over. Sighing, she draped the towel over her shoulder before stretching out one of her hands to wipe the condensation. While she brushed the water droplets off, a bizarre suddenly greeted her. Frowning and wondering if she had mistaken, she hurried wiped off the rest of the condensation with hurried strokes. It did not however change the image in the mirror.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, her body appeared only ethereal - no – glowy – no – bright – no – _translucent._

She blinked, rubbing her eyes as she squinted the peculiar image. Scooping the towel off her shoulders and noting the curious transparency did not affect it, she glanced down at her hands and the rest of her body. It looked perfectly fine. But when she looked in the mirror once again, the strange translucent pallor that had settled over her had not disappeared.

Elsa eyed the mirror with suspicion, reaching over and tapping it sharply, thinking that it perhaps some kind of screen instead of an ordinary mirror. She read articles about television screen that doubled as mirrors when switch off, so if this mirror was like one of those, that might explain the weird image that she was looking at. However, the rapping of her knuckles against the glass revealed that it was just an ordinary cheap mirror. Burgess National Hospital was a fairly old hospital, and she was doubtful that it would have installed something so expensive and high-tech in a bathroom. She withdrew her hand from the mirror and continued to frown.

" _There's nothing wrong with the mirror, Elsa."_

She jumped, swinging once again, heard thumping wildly in her chest. She hastily walked down the toilet, pushing back the doors of the empty cubicles, looking for a voice recorder, or a phone, or some kind of device that some had clearly installed here to play a prank on her.

She heard that nasty chuckle again, before the voice said, _"This is no prank, my dear Elsa. If you look back at your memories, you'd realise that."_

This was getting ridiculous. She stomped past cubicle over cubicle, vowing to ensure that the moron who made fun of her like that was thoroughly berated.

But there was nothing. No hidden devices, no hiding prankster. She was completely alone.

" _You are never alone, Elsa."_

Exasperated, she threw her hands up in the air and growled, "Who is that? And where are you hiding?"

" _Oh, my dear child. Don't you remember?"_

"Remember?" she scoffed out loud, refusing to think back her answer, no matter how much she felt as if the voice was only speaking in her min-

No.

 _No._ This couldn't be happening to her again. _Not again._

When she had told Jack about that she had to see psychiatrist after her parents' death, she hadn't gone into the details of why she had to see a psychiatrist and not an ordinary counsellor. It was the reason why Anna had been kept away from her during that period of time. In fact, when Elsa had told Jack that she went 'a bit mad', she had actually meant that she went _really, really_ mad - mad enough to start hearing voices.

Actually, not voices. Just, well, 'voice'. Because there was only one voice that haunted her, taunted her, threatened her, coaxed her.

The voice belonging to the shadow that had slaughtered her parents.

" _Oh, good, good,"_ she heard the voice speak with glee. _"I was afraid I'd have to introduce myself all over again."_

"Get out of my head," the blonde girl hissed, clutching against her head. As she did, her eyes fell onto her left wrist – a wrist that she often hid with her gloves. She hated looking at the scars that had been left there from the so-called accident. They brought her memories that she had rather not face.

That very spot suddenly started to throb, burning and stinging. Elsa let out a cry of pain and surprise as she grabbed onto her left wrist with her right hand. It did little to assuage the growing pain. Instead, burning sensation started spreading down to her elbow then up her arm, before hitting her chest like a burning fire. Curses that her refined tongue had never uttered came tumbling out of her mouth as she felt her body overcome with an horrific agony that she hadn't felt since the first time she awoke to learn of her parents' demise.

"Elsa? I heard you from the room," she could hear someone outside the toilet door. It sounded like a little gruff and very much concerned, but too young to be Kai. "You okay in there?"

Anyhow, she couldn't answer, because she was busy trying not to collapse to the floor in puddle as her legs began to shake. Catching on the side of the sink for balance, she glanced at the mirror one last time.

This time, she couldn't see her reflection at all.

A scream of horror escaped her throat as she stepped back sharply from the sink, and at that moment her knees buckled. She slumped against the sink, breathing rapidly and staring at her wrist. Suddenly, the lights of the bathroom began to flicker, slowly at first, then rapidly. The world seemed to be dissolving into a puddle of fluttering colours and she could feel a shift in the atmosphere. An overwhelming darkness came flooding over her, surrounding her thoughts and her vision. She clawed against it, tore against it, but it was much stronger than she was, and behind it all was a menacing presence.

And she heard him loud and clear. _"It's been a while, hasn't it?"_

"Get out!" she screamed.

" _We should get reacquainted."_

"GET OUT!" She struggled, twisting and squirming, but the shadows would not move. Instead, the blackness seemed to intensify.

" _You can't escape me,"_ the mocking tone turned abruptly hostile, even though it seemed quieter. _"You never could."_

"Leave me alone!"

The darkness would not budge. _"I'll never let you be alone."_

" _No."_ She shook her head violently. _"No. Get out. Get out!"_

" _We'll be together soon, my dear."_

"No, no, no – let me go!" She could ever feel hands encircling her wrist. She tore against them.

" _Forever."_

"No, no, no!"

" _And ever."_

"LET ME GO!"

~~~0~~~

She was sobbing, hysterical mess when the nurses led her out of the female bathroom. From what he had heard, she had fought against them – violently, almost – but eventually she grew tired and allowed herself to be led away. As he watched the nurses all but drag the blonde girl down the hallway, Kristoff couldn't help but feel extremely disturbed.

"I've never seen her like this," the young man told the older one by his side. Well, Kristoff admitted that he didn't know the elder Arendelle girl that well. The only reason he had joined the whole Social Awareness society was because Anna had pretty much blackmailed him to and though he would never admit it, there was very little he would not do for the brunette girl.

But Anna's sister was the President of their little society, so Kristoff had interacted with her enough to see her under duress. Even at her worse, Elsa was always collected, always objective. She always had a clear idea of what she wanted to do and how she wanted to do it. She was not the kind to have flares of temper or flights of fancy. That was more up Anna's alley.

Yet now it was Anna who quietly sleeping in her bed and Elsa bawling her eyes out.

The portly older man who Kristoff knew to the guardian to the two girl sighed, before saying quietly, "She hadn't been that way since Mr. and Mrs. Arendelle passed away."

"Hmm." The boy watched as the nurses escorting Elsa made a turn to one of the rooms, where they would probably have her settled down to rest.

"Excuse me?" one of the nurses who had just emerged from the bathroom stopped before them. "You both are with her, right? She left these in the bathroom." The nurse presented to them a bag, a phone and a pair of gloves.

"Oh, yes. Those are Elsa's," the elderly guardian confirmed as he took the items. He gave them a cursory glance before turning to the boy. "Do you mind bringing these back to Anna's room? I should get these-" he nodded to the gloves "-back to Elsa. It might help her calm down."

"Sure." Kristoff took the duffel bag and the phone from him, a little puzzled as to how a pair of gloves might change anything. But from all he had seen of the girl, Elsa was always wearing gloves. Maybe it might do some good.

As the portly man turned on his heel towards the room that the blonde girl had disappeared into, Kristoff glanced down at the phone in his hand. It was then when he noticed that phone was actually damaged. Part of him speculated that the girl must have dropped it in the bathroom, but the cracks on the screen were only along the two long borders of the phone, with small dents on each side. It seemed like…well, that the phone had been crushed in Elsa's hand.

Kristoff shook his head. That was ridiculous. Elsa couldn't possibly so strong as to crack her phone between her bare hands. The hands of the Arendelle girls were absurdly feminine in how slender and thin they were. Even Anna, who he knew to be pretty strong, wouldn't be able to manage such a feat.

So Kristoff swung himself around, duffel bag swung over his shoulder, heading back to Anna's ward. He couldn't help the uneasiness that had seeped into his mind now and he hurried his steps. He would feel much better with his trusty bat back in his hands.

Even when he settled himself back next to the sleeping girl, the gnawing sensation did not leave him. He wondered where the white-haired last member of their small student society was. Jack and Elsa were supposed to be pretty tight? Maybe the other boy would be able better figure out the curious events surrounding the Arendelle sisters.

~~~0~~~

Ingredients:

Beef, cubed

2 tablespoon of flour

2 tablespoon of olive oil

3 tablespoon of smoke paprika

2 big onions, sliced

2 medium potatoes, peeled and cubed

2 medium fresh tomatoes, sliced

1 cup of beef or pork blood

Salt and pepper to taste

2 bay leaves

How to Prepare:

1)Roll cubed beef in flour.

2)Heat olive oil in a pan.

3)Add floured beef cubes and cook on all sides. Remove once cooked.

4)Repeats steps 1 to 3 for sliced onions.

5)Transfer to larger pan.

6)Add potatoes, tomatoes, paprika, bay leaf, salt and pepper into pan.

7)Add blood and water to just cover mixture.

8)Cover mixture with a lid and stew for 30 minutes on a slow fire. Stop to stir.

9) Reduce heat and simmer until thickened. Serve with hot noodle or mashed potatoes. Add sour cream if desired.

~~~0~~~

It was late at night when Mara Dursley was driving back on back home.

What do you need to know about Mara Dursley? Well, for one, she wasn't all that important for our story. In fact, she's so unimportant that I can tell you quite frankly that she wasn't going to be alive for much longer now.

Besides that, she was also a middle-aged woman who lived Burgess. She had two teenaged sons and a husband waiting for her to come home from Corona, a bigger town that was a two-hour drive from Burgess and also the location of her workplace. That day, her work had ended incredibly late, so by the time she started on the way back home, the sun had already started to set. When she was halfway through the journey, night had already fallen.

The road back to Burgess was largely unlit, being a knot of twists and turns through the dense forestry and irregular hills. Mara had driven this road for the last ten years of her life though, so she didn't flinch when her car hit the bumps or when her body swung with the sharp swerves. She however did not expect to see a hunched thin figure plodding on ahead of her, along the highway.

She slowed the car down such that the vehicle stopped right next to the figure walking by the roadside. Under the headlights, she could make out the figure more clearly. It was an old man, with a cane under his arm. What he was doing walking along the highway at night, Mara didn't know, but she felt that it wasn't right to let him continue. She had a compassionate soul.

She was also not going to be alive for very much longer.

Rolling down the side window, she called to the old man, who had stopped when he had seen do the same, "Hello, there."

The old man tipped his hat at, answering rather formally, "Good evening." There was a tint of an accent in his words – British, perhaps?

"Burgess is still several miles off. It'd be hours if you tried to make it by foot," Mara told him. "Would you like a ride?"

He dipped his head towards her, smiling a wrinkly smile at her. "You are too kind, Miss."

"Just Mara would do," the woman said, stretching from her seat to open the door. "C'mon, I insist."

Nodding at her with humble gratefulness, the old man entered the car, mumbling 'thank you's' to her. Mara just waved them off with a laugh and when he had closed the door, she started up the engine and had them speeding back down the dark, empty road.

"I never thought I'd see people walking down here at night," the woman remarked to her guest. She was a very talkative woman and if she didn't have someone to talk to, she would probably talk to herself. So here, with her unexpected guest, she had no cause for silence. "What were you doing down there?"

The old man cleared his throat, before answering in a thin, whispery croak, "I needed to get to Burgess urgently."

"Ah," Mara said politely. She wondered if she should press him to reveal the reason for his urgency, but she supposed that it might be a little rude to those so. Still, her curiosity got the better of her. "Why, might I ask?"

The old man turned his head sharply at her with a fierceness that she hadn't expected from a frail old fellow like him.

Fearful that she might have offended him, the woman added quickly, "I mean, it just sounds like you're not from around here, so I figured you were a tourist or something." British. Yes. The accent sounded rather British. Then again, all that Mara Dursley knew of British accents came from watching BBC news and Doctor Who.

The tension on the old man's expression faded and he returned to gazing out wearily of windshield. "I have come to visit an old acquaintance of mine."

"Oh, that's nice. A friend, perhaps? A special someone?" She wagged her brow teasingly.

An odd expression seemed to cross the frail old fellow's face, one that seemed … sardonically amused? "You could say that, I suppose."

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself down here," Mara said as they swept past the large sign that greeted, _'Welcome to Burgess'._ "It's not fancy or sophisticated like those big cities, but it's still a nice place, don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," the old man murmured, his voice seeming to drop several decibels. "It has a rather unique aura about it, doesn't it?"

"Aura?" The woman stepped on the pedal, let out a small chuckle. "What do you mean?"

"A darkness. A shadow. It's as if its very soil of this land is tainted."

The cheer that Mara had immediately faded away and glanced at him with a raised brow. "What do you mean?"

The old man turned slowly towards her and for the first time, she noticed that his eyes were almost entirely black, with a flicker of gold in them. "Do you believe in ghosts, man?"

She felt goosebumps running up her arms, even as she answered confidently, "Can't say that I do."

"Hmm. A pity." His unsettling eyes did not leave her. "Because that's all this town would have left once I'm done here."

Mara had no chance to act before the old man suddenly grabbed on her throat with a strength that couldn't be natural and in her horrified shock, the car swerved off the road and rammed itself into a tree.

I wish I could tell you that then was when Mara Dursley, wife to her devoted husband and mother to two teenaged sons, died. But the crash itself only gave terrible abrasion on her head and long cut up her chest when a glass shard stabbed her in stomach. No, her death was only really sealed when she started to bleed. The companion next to her, who hadn't sustained a single injury from the incident, merely grinned as the decadent scent flooded his nostrils and inhibitions of his instincts were lifted.

On the deserted road at this time of the night, there was no one to hear the screams.

Eventually, a figure emerged from the forest. But it was not the figure of an injured middle-aged woman, nor was it of a frail old man. Instead, a tall, slender man, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties at most, was the one who stepped back onto the gravel road. He did his best to straighten out his unkempt clothes and made a mental note to obtain attire more appropriate for someone of his stature. With his bony, claw-like hands, he removed his hat in favour of slicking his dark black hair back. In his other hand, he tightened his hold on his 'walking cane', feeling along it for the switch. He found it and pressed on it, making the thin rod extend itself and sprout a pair of hooked blades.

Throwing his scythe over his shoulder, he continued his journey to Burgess at relaxed pace, only pausing once to wipe the blood from his lip.

~~~0~~~

 **I should emphasise if I haven't that many of these recipes probably won't really work if you tried them out. They are based on legit recipes I found online, but I have altered them to a point that they might just not work anymore. Anyway, out of all the recipes' here, the only one that originally has blood in it is the Duck Blood Salad. The rest are blood free.**

 **In pop culture these days, silver is usually associated with being a weakness for werewolves, not vampires. But in the original Dracula novel, a silver bullet can be fired through a vampire's coffin to keep it from waking anymore.**

 **And you did not misread that. Yes, Merida used magic to lynch Hans. This story is getting increasing violent. Also in this story, vampires can bleed.**

 **If you've read my previous stories, you know that I used to hate writing OCs, but what I hate even more than writing OCs is wasted cameos. So I'd rather create a bunch of OCs to kill off then bring in a Disney/Dreamworks character that goes to waste.**

 **My exams are over for now, so hopefully that means more updates. That is…provided I didn't fail any of the tests…**

 **Well, if you enjoyed reading it, a review would be nice. But who am I kidding? I love writing this as much you enjoy reading it. Even if it makes my hands ache and my back hurt…**

 **Time to reevaluate my life choices….**


	6. Chapter 6

_17-_

 _Dear Mrs. Matthew Harrison née Emma Overland,_

 _I should introduce myself before we began lest I keep you in unneeded suspense about my identity. My name is Jack Frost. I worked in a lumbering company in West Virginia alongside your brother, Jackson Overland. I had spoken to him on several occasions and one might even consider us friends, though I admit as persons we are very much different._

 _You might have heard the stories about the curious and disturbing events that had surrounded our company of many years ago. No doubts many rumours have swirled around the happenings here, including talks of attack by the natives, pirates and even ghosts! It has come to my attention that these truth circumstances have not been made clear to you and while it brings me no pleasure, I should tell you what had really occurred._

 _To get to the bottom line, a terrible illness had swept over the province. It started with a young boy called Bernie (God rest his soul) and spread to the rest of the men, and then to the town nearby. Your brother, sadly, was the one who to find Bernie when he was ill and was sadly afflicted very early on. I was one of the few who survived the ordeal by fortune of my strong constitution, though it gave me no joy to watch fellow humans around me perish._

 _On his death bed, I was at your brother's side. He was ill – very ill – his fever burning his entire body and his skin so cold and pale. He had sent you a few letters before, no doubt, and may have alarmed you due to their ominous tone and incoherent structure. But I have seen them and must tell you that all of it was merely due to his delirium. Your poor brother suffered terribly, but if it is of any comfort to you, it was not very long before the Good Lord took him home._

 _Before his passing, your brother begged me to do something to him. He begged me to return to London and give you the last of his possessions as well as his deepest regard, for he was too weak to make the journey himself. You have to understand, my good Mrs. Harrison, that even at his dying breath, his thoughts were still of you. There is no one on this Earth that he had ever adored as much as you and it pained him to know that he would never see you again._

 _Alas! After the plague had passed, I had been caught up in many matters, like wars with the natives, being captured by the Spanish and fending off the revolutionists. I regret to admit that I had forgotten my promise to your brother. Only now, with my land secure and my children fed that I had remembered this. I am no longer as strong as I was in my youth, so I cannot return to England myself, but I have entrusted your brother's possessions, which are now yours, as well as this letter to my associate Nikolas - a splendid fellow who has saved me from myself on many occasions. He will deliver them safely to you, I have no doubt._

 _The possessions include your mother's ring, which I regret that you've been unable to use for your own wedding. Nevertheless, perhaps your children or grandchildren can inherit it when they are of age. Another item is this bronze brooch, which though tarnished is still of value. Last but not least is three hundred pounds, which is the complete sum that your brother had left before his passing. It is not much, I admit, but he had saved it for you. I remember how he had continued wearing the same tattered boots though they were worn to soles and had mud seeping through. When I asked him to buy himself a new pair, he had laughed at me and told me that he preferred going barefoot anyway. I do not tell you this to make you feel burdened in any way, but to show you truly how greatly your brother loved you._

 _I wish you the best of health and success of the school that you've been running. Please do not feel at obliged to send me a letter. Knowing that I've fulfilled my promise to an old friend is all the reward I require._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Jack Frost_

"You sure you don't want to come in?"

He shook his head, tugging uneasily on his waist coat. "I'm afraid of the temptation."

"You've improved a lot since the first time I met you, you know," the large man assured him, laying his large hand on the boy's shoulder.

But the boy merely shook his head once again, stepping away and shrugging the man's hand off. "I'll just watch from outside."

"If you really wish." The Russian man sighed.

So while the man approached the door of the house, Jack turned and headed into the garden instead. There stood an apple blossom, its thick branches curled upwards. Though his hat and gloves covered all his skin, the sun was a little strong. So he stood in the shade, pressing himself against the tree trunk, trying to make his presence as inconspicuously as possible.

He heard the door of the house opening and heard North's voice, " _Izvinite._ I have a message for Mrs. Matthew Harrison. May I come in?"

Jack heard the maid invite him in, with the door drawing shut as he did. Through the window and its thin curtains, he watched as his Russian friend entered the drawing room. He saw the maid tell North something, before curtseying and scuttling out of the room.

A few minutes later, she returned, and through the glass, Jack heard her announce, "Mrs. Harrison would see you now."

Through the doorway, Jack watched with bated breath as a graceful but thin figure emerged. Her wispy white hair was drawn back in a neat bun, which contrasted sharply with her dark, modest clothes. Her face, though wrinkled, was kindly as she gestured to North to sit. Her voice was soft, so soft that even his enhanced ears could not pick it up through the glass. Helpless, he kept watch on her face. When North began to speak, the expressions on that wrinkled face began to change.

At first there was surprise, then skepticism. North handed her the letter, which she took with her trembling thin hands. She unfolded it and began to read. Jack watched as her brown eyes, so much like those he used to have, darted back and forth as they went down the paper. A small cry escaped her lips and she pressed her small hand against her mouth. Everything in Jack screamed for him to break through the window and leap to her side, to embrace her to and to assure her that the contents of the letter were not true. But fortunately, he couldn't do it and even if he could, North would stop him.

So he was on the outside looking in, watching as tears streamed down his sister's crinkled countenance. He did not move his gaze when she finally lowered the letter and North handed to her the items, one by one. She did not look at the brooch or the money, only clasping the gold ring in her hand and lifting it up. She did so with such reverence and care that one might think she was holding the world.

In a way, their mother's ring had been their world once - their little world, bound by the love of their late mother and their love for each other. A world that so, so much simpler, when they were just impoverished dreamers with tired bodies but energetic minds. Now?

He watched her shoot question after question at North and he realised that that little world had been shattered long ago.

"James! Slow down!" He suddenly heard a cry, coming from behind the house and further down the gardens. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

Jack swung his head in the direction of the childish laughter and a horrendous chill shot through his system. He needed to remove himself this place at once. He needed to escape, before he was see-

Too late. A child – a young boy – had come speeding round the corner, giggling in excitement. Following after him was a man in his mid-forties, well-built and rugged with the stature of a soldier. He scooped the boy up in his arms, making him scream with laughter. The man too was chortling his heart out, swinging the boy around. "Ahaha! You can't escape me! I'm the big Frenchman and I'm going to-" he broke off when he spotted the intruder in the garden.

The father lowered the lad down to the ground slowly, staring at Jack. Jack stared back, wanting to run but unable to move his feet.

Then the father said to him, "Hello."

"Hi," Jack answered after a great deal of thought, tipping his hat slightly.

"I wasn't aware we had visitors." The man frowned, before looking at the boy by his side. "Did your mama tell you anything?" This was answered with a shaking head, so both pairs of questioning eyes were glued back onto Jack..

The white-haired boy gulped, trying not to breathe too deeply as he said, "I'm Jack …Anderson. I'm just here with a friend whose meeting with Mrs. Harrison now." He jerked his head towards the window.

"I see." The man nodded, suddenly becoming more cordial now that the reason of his visit was revealed. To Jack's horror, he approached him, with his son still clinging by his side. The man stuck out a hand towards him, introducing himself, "I am John Bennett, Mrs. Harrison's son-in-law. This over here-" jerking his head to the little boy, who had suddenly become rather shy and hiding behind his father coat tails "-is my youngest son, James."

"A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Bennett." Seeing that there was no choice, Jack shook the man's hand, trying to focus on the scent of apple blossoms and not on the scent of blood pumping in the veins in the man and they boy. He edged himself subtly away from them as soon as he let go. "You have a lovely garden, Mr. Bennett."

"Oh, this estate isn't mine. The late Mr. Harrison was the owner of this establishment, and now my brother-in-law." Mr. Bennett let out a laugh, scuffling the young boy's hair. "I'm afraid my wife married a poor man."

So Emma had married well, and by the expanse of the land, _really_ quite well. But had she been happy? He needed to know. "I'm sorry if this question seems odd, but … did your in-laws get along?"

"My wife's parents?" The expression on the man's face made it clear that he did think the question very odd. "Well, from what I heard from Katherine, her father adored her mother, and her mother was very fond of him in return. Why did you ask?"

 _Katherine._ It was like a shot through his chest. His niece, whom he had never seen, had been named after her grandmother – his own mother. His eyes dipped down to the young boy, who had given up on being shy. He was now tearing up flowers from near the apple blossom tree and it hit Jack that this boy was his grandnephew – his _flesh and blood._

And because of the blood part, he would probably never see him again.

"It's pretty warm out here." Mr. Bennett fortunately didn't wait for him to answer, but his next question was far worse. "Would you like to come in-"

"No!" the answer burst out of his mouth. North had told him that vampires could only enter houses that they were invited into, which was why he was adamant that he not be seen at first. That way, no one could invite him into the house that his sister lived in, and he would never be exposed to a temptation that would destroy his rest of his old life.

Of course, his aggressive reply earned a shocked expression from his niece's husband – not that the guy knew - so Jack hurriedly said, "What I meant is that this garden is really exquisite, and it would be a shame not to enjoy it properly."

"You're right about that," Mr. Bennett agreed, relaxing more now that Jack seemed relax. He gazed wistfully down the green lanes and hedges, watching as his son darted down to a nearby pond to watch the fishes. "I suppose it's fortunate that my son's grandparents own such a fine place. The dreary streets of London are no place for a boy to grow up."

"So you stay at London?"

"We used to, but I'm hoping to move to out of the town, like Wiltshire or Somerset."

"You have family there?"

"No." The man hesitated. "I don't have any family left as far as I know. I loss both my parents and my sister very early on."

"How unfortunate." And then it struck Jack that name Bennett was familiar. He slowly turned to look at the man properly. How old was he really? Could it be that…?

"Anyway, since I don't have many good memories of London, so I was hoping to get a fresh start somewhere. My eldest son thinks it's hilarious, of course." He let out a short laugh, but Jack didn't join in. "Finding a fresh start at my age."

It was. There was no mistaking it. He couldn't forget the eyes of the young girl that he had murdered so long ago when they were shining through the eyes of her brother. A horrible sensation started stirring in Jack's chest and it wasn't from his unbeating heart.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Bennett was asking him. "You look quite pale."

"Jack!" Thankfully, North's voice came booming across the garden.

The boy spun briefly to the man, nodding briefly. "It was nice talking to you. Good day, Mr. Bennett."

"Good day to you too." Mr. Bennett tipped his hat politely at him.

Jack hurriedly strode across the garden, back to the path, but he paused momentarily to observe the man going down to the steps to join his son by the pond. The little boy was jabbering on about something while pointing at the water, and the man laughed while ruffling his hair.

And then the boy looked up, in his direction, and Jack saw Emma's eyes looking at him.

"Jack!"

He spun on his heel, marching away, a fierce resolution boiling deep inside of him as he joined North back on the path. The big man gestured towards their carriage and told him to get on. He did, sliding down the wooden paneled seat so that North climb up next to him. The coach drive then helped them close the door and before long, Jack felt the carriage moving under them again.

As the rolling hills passed by, the white-haired boy could tell that North was going to tell him something. But before the Russian could speak, Jack spoke first, "I want to leave England."

"What?" The big man seemed surprised at his unexpected request.

"If I stay here, there's too high a chance that I'll hurt someone in my family, or at least, my sister's family," he explained, folding his arms to his chest. He did not look at North. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to.

"You didn't hurt them today, did you?" North told him gently. "In fact, I think you handled yourself quite well."

"Only because I drank dry an entire flock of sheep this morning," was his moody reply. He was still uncomfortable to with the whole notion of consuming animal blood. It didn't taste half as good as human blood and it wasn't as filling either. Back in the day, the blood from one human could last him weeks on end. Now, with animal blood, he had to feed once every three days and always in large amounts. It was unsustainable and he knew it.

"The risk is too high, North. Take me with you." Jack was almost begging. "Please."

The big man hesitated, then removed from the inner pocket of his coat a small piece of paper folded up. Jack's mouth fell open with surprise when he proffered the folded piece to him.

"Even though Jack Frost told her that no reply was necessary, your sister insisted that I wait for her to draft one," the big man explained as Jack began to unfold it. "She scribbled it out quickly and begged me to take it to Jack Frost. She's quite eager to meet him – said she would even cross the ocean if needed." North let out a heavy exhale. "Jack, she still loves her brother very much, so much that she wants to meet a stranger just to hear a little more about him. It's not too late."

The white-haired lad lifted his gaze from the letter to stare at him. "What do you mean?"

The big man did not speak at once, as if he was thinking for the best way to phrase himself. At last, he decided that honesty was the only way. "She deserves to know that her brother is still alive."

"No."

"Listen to me. It could work out." It was North's turn to plead. "You need tell her the truth. It would devastate her at first, but when you show your efforts to control it, she would under-"

"No, she won't," Jack contradicted flatly, shaking his head. "She used to think the world of me. I won't ruin that for her."

"So it's your pride that keeps you from seeing her?" Trust North to hit where it hurts.

"I'm saying that she's getting old, and learning something like that would kill her. Besides-" the boy ran his finger through his white hair, guilty filling his gut "-I'm not going to put myself in a place where I can hurt her."

"Jack, just read what she wrote," North urged him. "Just read it, and tell me you don't want to see her too."

Against his will, his eyes lowered themselves to the letter, and he managed to make out the first few words:

 _Dear Mr. Frost,_

 _Thank you very much for –_

No. He couldn't read this. He couldn't.

He folded the letter back up. Before North could ask him what he was doing, he had ripped it into shreds, crunched them up in his hand and tossed them out of the window.

The Russian was horrified, his large hand shooting out of the window, but the pieces had long slipped from his grasp. Swinging back, he stared at the boy, almost shouting, "What have you done, Jack?"

"I came here today to bury the past, not to dig up," came the cold reply, though he felt a burning pain inside him. It was like that time that he had accidentally touched an ash tree while walking in the woods, only that this pain gnawing him on the inside, consuming him.

"You'll regret this one day." North shook his head, still unable to believe his own eyes.

"I'd regret it more if I keep hurting her." Jack leaned himself back into the hard carriage seat, drawing the curtains of the window to keep out the sun. He forced his sorrow down his throat as he asked, "So, where is it that we're going?"

The silence was so thick that one could dice it, slice it and serve it with a side of mash potatoes and corn. Finally, he heard a heavy exhale and then – "Calcutta."

"Calcutta," Jack repeated, unfamiliar with the name. He then turned to North with suspicious eyes. "That's not in France, is it?"

~~~0~~~

 _Blood Chow Mein (by Bunny)_

 _Two cups of Fresh Chow_ _Mein noodles_

 _1 sliced spring onion_

 _1 carrot_

 _1 Chinese cabbage, sliced thinly_

 _1 sliced onion_

 _1/4 cup blood with anticoagulant, dilute to preference_

 _1/4 cup soy sauce_

 _1 teaspoon of vegetable oil_

 _1 teaspoon of sesame oil_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Boil noodles for five minutes, or according to preference, and drain._

 _2)Heat a pan and add vegetable oil_

 _3)Once oil is hot, add carrots, cabbage and onion. Stir-fry for until cabbage and onion are browned and wilted_

 _4)Add cooked noodle, blood and soy sauce. Toss in the pan with vegetables till well mixed._

 _5)Turn off heat and transfer to serving plate. Garnish with spring onion._

~~~0~~~

"No features, no faces?"

The girl shook her head.

"Even clothes?"

She creased her forehead, then shook her head.

"Well, that's really unfortunate then." The officer let out a puff of air as he stood to his feet. "A description would have really helped. Hmm, okay. Let us know if you happen to remember anything later."

"Of course she will," the girl's older sister interrupted. Her tone was harsh, almost deadly. "We want nothing more than to see that monster responsible brought to justice."

The officer eyed the blonde girl sitting at the chair next to the patient, considering her carefully. He then bade the two of them farewell and took his leave from the ward.

The younger girl sighed as she leaned back into her bed, rubbing her temple. "This really stinks. I'm pretty sure I saw the attacker's face, but somehow-" she scrunched her nose in disbelief "-I can't remember anything about it. It's just…blurred out."

"Give it sometimes. Maybe you're still in shock," was her sister's quiet assurance. But there was none of the usual warmth in it, just a layer of cold – as if she were just going through the motions of saying things.

Her sister noticed this and frowned. "Are you alright, Elsa?"

The blonde blinked at her. "Why wouldn't I be? You're the one who got attacked."

"Kristoff told me that you had a mental breakdown yesterday."

"Mental Breakdown?" she repeated, scoffing. "He's exaggerating. I was just tired, that's all."

"But he said that you had to see a doctor and they put on you on medica-"

"He's mistaken," the interruption was sharp, almost angry. "I'm perfectly fine, Anna."

The girl fell quiet, clutching her elbows uncertainly. She was trying to hide it, but Elsa could tell that she was hurt. She almost wanted to apologise, but something in her just kept her mouth closed. She feared that if she spoke now, the truth would come pouring out too. Anna didn't need to know about her troubles – she had her own to bear.

"You should change out of the hospital garments," Elsa suggested at last, trying to soften her tone this time. "The doctor said you could be discharged soon."

Anna nodded and reached for the bag sitting at the foot of her bag. Carrying over her shoulder, she slipped off the bed and headed into the toilet outside the ward. As she watched her sister disappear behind the door, a tremor ran over her hands as she recalled the horrible experience she had within it.

"It's just hospital," she told herself. "It's just this place that's bringing back bad memories." She didn't feel all that convinced, however.

"Miss Arendelle?"

She jumped when she heard the voice, swinging rapidly around to find the doctor standing behind her. When the doctor had approached her, she didn't know. Frankly, Elsa was starting to realise that she wasn't as observant of her surroundings as she usually was. All this rumination and stress was starting to get to her.

"Sorry if I'd shocked you." the doctor said, straightening her glasses. "I just wanted to inform you that your sister can be discharged at twelve this afternoon. We just need your guardian to come and sign some documents."

"Great. I'll contact him."

Just as Elsa whipped out her phone however, the doctor lifted a hand at her. She had not finished speaking. "Miss Arendelle, I also need to discuss your breakdown yesterday night."

"It wasn't a breakdown."

"I don't if you've realised it, but the symptoms you displayed indicate that this whole incident with your sister might be stressing you out. You're not well."

"You think I'm crazy." She didn't know why she said that. Elsa knew herself to be very careful with her speech, but for some reason, this topic was bringing out the worst of her.

"I never said that," the doctor said cautiously. "I'm just saying that you might want to talk to someone about this. We have a resident psychologist here. I can book you an appointment -"

"That's kind of you to offer, but I can't afford to spend time travelling back here anymore," Elsa cut in, shaking her head. "I need to be at home to care for my sister."

"Well, in that case, maybe I can refer you to a psychologist or counsellor nearer town. Would you like that?"

Elsa could just imagine it happening, sitting across the room with the shrink taking notes while she, almost seventeen, spoke of how she had nightmares, only that the nightmares happened while she was awake. These nightmares were visions of darkness followed by a taunting voice, who seemed to know her name. And how on Earth was she going to explain what she had seen in the mirror?

"Thank you, but no thank you."

Seeing that she was not going to be moved, the doctor finally gave up. "Well, I wish you the best then, Miss Arendelle."

After the doctor departed, the blonde girl returned back to the ward to pack up all the things in the room. There were flowers, baskets and cards that all wished Anna a speedy recovery. They never realized how quickly Anna's recovery was really going to be, and Elsa herself wondered what was the purpose of this attack if her sister had emerged from the incident relatively unscathed. She didn't remember who attacked her, nor did she seem terribly traumatized by the incident. Perhaps her worry for her sister was unwarranted after all.

No. No, it wasn't. Not while the attacker was on the loose. Whoever had done to Anna would pay dearly. Elsa had no idea how she was going to make certain of this promise, but she was determined that she saw it through.

It was then she felt a light vibration in her hand, so she glanced at the phone screen. As much as it embarrassed her to admit it, her heart began thump heavily when she saw the name attached –

 _Jack F. Guardian:_

 _10:43am: Hey, I'm sorry for not replying earlier._

 _10:43am: Like, this is really late. I'm really sorry._

 _10:44am: And you're right. I do owe you an explanation._

 _10:44am: Meet me at the Art Museum at Special Exhibit at one-thirty today. Come alone._

She frowned, and typed back, _"Why?"_

 _10:45am: Things are … complicated._

 _10:45am: Just trust me, okay? I promise you it'd be worth your time._

 _10:45am: Don't give up on me yet._

Elsa let out a long breath, staring down at her cracked screen. Kristoff had given it back her in this condition and up to now, she had no idea how it had happened. After a moment of contemplation, she answered, _"You better be there."_

~~~0~~~

He woke to the sound of tapping.

As his eyelid peeled back open, he became aware that he wasn't in his bed. The ceiling was unfamiliar and the texture of bedsheets were all wrong. He tried to push himself off the mattress, only to realise that he was incredibly exhausted. His muscles hurt in ways he never thought they could and there was a funny sensation along his chest.

The tapping sound was getting louder, so without lifting his head from the pillow, he sought it out. Eventually, he discovered that it was coming from his right, at the table. There sat a teenaged redhead girl, earphones plugged and pencil in hand. Her face was contorted into a grimace as she stared down at the worksheet in front of her, tapping her pencil against the table as she did.

She happened to look his way at that moment and was startled to note that his eyes were fixed on her. Removing her earphones, Merida said to him, "You're awake."

He wanted to give her snarky answer, but realized that his mouth was very dry.

She noticed his expression of distress. "What's wrong?"

"Drink," was all he managed to croak out. There was a weird sensation down his throat and he lifted his hand to feel at it. It was covered with a bandage.

The young witch immediately got up from her seat before moving off somewhere out of his line of sight. Eventually, she returned carrying a glass. She handed to him, gingerly as to make sure that he could actually support the weight in his hands.

He lifted his head up slightly as to take a sip, only to frown immediately after. "This is water."

"So?"

As tired as he was, he summoned enough strength deadpan her, thrusting the glass back in her hand. "I'm a vampire."

"Well, sorry." The girl huffed at him, setting the glass on the table. "There's no way in hell I'm feeding you blood. Besides, you've got enough going into you." She gestured behind him.

He twisted his neck in the direction of her gesture about – wow, that action really hurt. It was then that he saw a bag of blood hanging off a pole, connected to a tube that led straight down towards him, sliding past his arm and _down to –_

Jack pushed back the covers and pull up his shirt.

 _\- his stomach._

He didn't know how long he stared at it, the tube full of crimson liquid. How the needle had been stuck into him, he didn't know, but the fact was, it was there. He wanted to laugh, actually. Just a few weeks ago, he had joined a team of students to run a blood donation drive and here he was, receiving a donation himself.

Then his amusement faded, replaced by horror. Swinging about to face the witch once again, he demanded, "What kind of blood is this?"

The girl raised a brow at him. "What? You mean the blood type? I didn't know vampires were that picky."

"No!" His free hand shot up to grab her wrist, making her gasp. "The organism it was harvested from. What is it?"

She pried his hand off her own, looking quite displeased at his act of force. "From people. Where else?"

A chill ran down him at once and he let out a gasp that actually hurt. So many years, he had managed to avoid the taste of human blood. Now, it was introduced back into his system, threatening to revert him to his blood-thirsty behaviours and his cravings for more. He couldn't allow this.

Reaching under his shirt, he tore at the tape from which the tube emerged from. Merida noticed his action and shot forward, grabbing his hands. "What are you doing?"

He pushed her away without even needing to try, making her tumble back and toppling a chair over as she did. Even in his weak state, he was still much stronger than her. However, it seemed that his fine motor skills were still a mess, for he couldn't quite remove the tape no matter how he scraped at it.

"Doctor! Help!" was the witch's cry.

Jack's sharp ears heard the scurrying of feet before the door of the room flung open. A young woman, perhaps in early twenties, appeared at the door. Her long blonde hair flew in the air as her gaze darted from the fallen girl to the patient on the bed. She shot over to Jack's bedside, grabbing his hands. "Stop! You're only hurting yourself."

"It's human blood!" he yelled, pushing her away as he did with the witch.

The young doctor however seemed to expect this, for she did not stumble back. Instead, she whipped something out of her pocket and pointed it at Jack's throat. "Don't move!"

He stared down the barrel of her gun, undaunted.

"These are loaded with silver, okay?" the woman warned, cocking her pistol.

It was only then that his hands stilled. His blue eyes flickered over her, her grim expression and her small body, then to the small tag that sat on her blouse. _"Rapunzel Fitzherbert, M.D."_

"Listen to me," this small doctor said slowly, gun steady in her grip. "You lost a lot of blood. If you don't do the blood drip, you're either going to suffer in agonized dehydration or go on a feasting craze. I am not allowing either of that to happen."

"But-"

"Besides, why're you so adverse to it? Aren't you a vampire?" She turned to the witch. "He is a vampire, right?"

"Yeah," Merida confirmed, rubbing her back as she rose on her feet. She scowled at him. "But he's a weird one."

"Well." Dr. Fitzherbert returned to glaring at her reluctant patient as she lowered her gun, slipping back under her white coat. "Now, you're going to lie down here for another three hours." She marched over to the IV stand to examine the bag and tube, rolling her fingers over the openings. "As long as the tubing is air-tight, the smell of the blood shouldn't get to you, and you won't get triggered in frenzy feeding mode. Is that clear?"

Jack gawked at her.

"I said, is that clear?" One of her hands reached back in her coat, as if prepared to use force.

Groaning, he leaned himself back down, biting his lip in annoyance.

"Good." Dr. Fitzherbert finally drew herself away. To the witch, she said, "I'm seeing a human patient next door. If he gets agitated-" she eyed him critically "-put a peg on his nose."

"Noted."

With that, the doctor departed, leaving Jack lying back forlornly in his bed. Merida plopping back on her chair and hooked her earphones back on as if nothing had happened, returning her focus to the worksheet on her desk. Watching her work reminded the boy that he had a French assignment due on the following day, which made him sigh, because he never liked French – the language or the people.

He didn't feel inclined to go back to sleep, as worn as his body felt, so he stared up at the ceiling. It got boring after a while, so he asked her, "Where's my phone?"

"What?" The girl ripped off her earphones, looking questioningly at him.

"My phone," he repeated, frowning. The hospital gown that he was in had no pockets and he couldn't see any of his belongings in the room – at least, from his position. "I'm bored."

She shrugged, curling bobbing up then down. "I don't know."

He frowned. "What do you mean 'you don't know'? You lost it?"

"Well, I was too busy trying to save your wretched undead life," Merida shot back, irritated. "Oh, and you're welcome, by the way."

Jack sighed. So maybe the circumstances weren't the best right now, but she was right. She hadn't needed to save him, but she did, and at a risk to herself too. "Alright," he mumbled grudgingly. "Thanks."

The redhead nodded, satisfied, before her eyes fell back to her work once again. She didn't replace the earphones, however, which indicated to Jack that she was waiting for him to go on.

Her expectations were not very off, for Jack couldn't help asking her the very next moment, "How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"I'm not asking the age that you look like," he clarified. "I mean, your actual age."

She seemed puzzled. "Sixteen."

The boy slowly spun his head towards her, blue eyes towards her.

Merida must have felt the weight of his stare, for she raised her head to stare back. "What?"

"You killed a man," he said slowly. "And you're only sixteen."

"He was going to kill you," was her justification. She didn't seem very disturbed, and that's precisely what made him feel disturbed. "It was the only way."

"You're-" his voice was thick with disbelief "-you're just a kid."

"Traditionally, a witch reaches adulthood at thirteen," Merida answered nonchalantly, fiddling with her pen whilst reclining back in her chair. "By then, she's supposed to decide whether she wants to apprentice herself to a senior witch, or get a mate and breed."

Witches and their weird customs. No wonder Bunny was never very impressed with them. "You make it sound like there aren't any wizards."

"There aren't." That answer came as a surprise. "That's just made up by people who can't tell the difference between sorcerers and witches."

Jack pressed his lips together, trying to process all this information. "Wait, so, do you even have a dad?"

"Yes, but he's normal. He doesn't know that mum and I are witches." Merida sniffed contemptuously. "Pity though. I'm closer to him."

"So, if traditionally a witch is to either apprentice herself or get a mate by thirteen-" he paused, lifting a feeble hand to scratch his head "-why're you in high school?"

"To get an education. Besides-" she sent his way a sardonic smile "-traditionally, a witch should also rip out the eyeballs of a vampire to make a immortality potion."

With how her eyes were glittering at him, Jack suddenly felt a little unsure of himself, especially with how vulnerable he felt on the bed.

Seeing his concern, the witch sighed, exasperated. "Oh, relax. I'm no fan of tradition. Anyway, it's my turn to ask you a question." Rising from her seat, she marched straight up to him and thrust her worksheet in his face. "How good are you at calculus?"

~~~0~~~

 _Hot Wings (by Sandy)_

 _For Wings:_

 _15 raw chicken wings_

 _1 Tablespoon of paprika_

 _1/2 teaspoon salt_

 _1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper_

 _4 Tablespoons of melted butter_

 _3 Tablespoons of hot sauce_

 _3 Tablespoons of blood_

 _For Dip:_

 _1/2 cup of sour cream_

 _1 cup of chicken blood_

 _1/2 cup of yogurt_

 _1 Tablespoon of Honey or Agave_

 _1 Tablespoon of White Wine Vinegar_

 _Preparation:_

 _1)Preheat Oven for 1 hour._

 _2)In a large mixing bowl, add blood, hot sauce, melted butter, salt and paprika. Mix well._

 _3) Add raw chicken wings into bowl. Use gloved hand to marinate thoroughly. Set aside for two hours in fridge._

 _4)Lay out marinated wings on an oven tray, over a cooking sheet._

 _5)Allow to cook for thirty minutes. Using thongs to turn over chicken and cook the other side._

 _6)When chicken is ready, serve with blood dip. If more nourishment is required, increase the blood proportion substantially, or even turn into a soup._

~~~0~~~

"Stop hovering over me," he complained. "I can't get this done with you buzzing over my head like a hummingbird."

"Well, you're not getting very much done in the first place, are you?" Tooth muttered as she pushed him aside so that she could see the screen properly. The page, however, told her quite uninformatively as before that it was still loading. "Why's it taking so long?"

"Maybe because it finds all your pacing and snapping annoying," Bunny retorted, folding his arms when she took hold of the mouse. "I know I do."

Just as Tooth sent him a deathly glare, the big Russian entered the computer room. It was called so, because that's where they dumped all their computers – the ones that they had bought in the nineties all the way until now. The only one of them who had personal computer in his room was Jack, because he was also the only one of them who has yet to have thrown a brick at his computer screen.

North then asked the duo, "How goes the search?"

"Still loading," the young woman answered at the same time as when the man said, "Unnecessarily painful." He earned a sharp nudge in the ribs.

"I thought this technology would help us find Jack's phone," North said, squinting at the screen himself, which unfortunately resulted in Bunny being squashed between himself and Tooth. "Why does it speak of 'loading' instead, and what does it load? Cargo? Bullets?"

"Urgh, I've had!" The ex-Australian yanked himself away from the two other Guardians, rising to his feet. "You two can watch the screen. I'm going to get a drink."

With that declaration, Bunny removed himself from the computer room and headed down the long corridor, past the paintings and statues that North had collected over the years. As he came across Jack's bedroom, he couldn't help stopping for a moment. He pushed back the door so that he could take a look at it.

In many ways, Jack's bedroom was very much that of a typical teenager. It was messy, with clothes strewn all over the place and covers tossed over his unmade bed. Bunny sniffed in disapproval, for a messy room reflected a messy life, in his opinion. But then again, none of their lives had exactly been spotless.

That imbecile of a boy. Why couldn't he just stay out of trouble for once?

The biggest pity had been that the police had found his car before they did. Someone driving from the hospital had called them once they saw the crash. By the time the Guardians had arrived back, there had been cops crawling all over the place.

The car plate instantly revealed the crashed vehicle to be his, which meant that the cops had come around to question him about it. Why had he left his car parked along the highway? Did he have any idea why his car had a huge hole ripped through its floor and one of its doors ripped clean off? Why were there so many holes through the windows? Had there been anyone inside the car?

He had lied. What else could he do? It was clear that damage had been inflicted by Jack, but he couldn't tell them that. They wouldn't believe him anyway - that some skinny, white-haired teenager would smash his car with his bare hands before running off because he was mad with his guardians.

At least, that was what Bunny hoped had happened. Considering alternative theories made him very uneasy.

He had downstairs after that, going straight to kitchen. Opening up the fridge, he removed the jug to pour himself a nice big cup of blood tea. It was freshly brewed, and probably prepared by Sandy. He hadn't seen the small man all morning, though. It was Sunday, so there wouldn't be work.

As he sipped on his tea and flipped through the paper on the table, his sharp ears caught the ringing of the doorbell. Frowning, Bunny left the paper, but took the tea, as he departed the kitchen and headed down the corridor towards it. Over the years, people had come to assume the blood tea was just some fancy fruit infusion, so he wasn't really afraid to be seen with it.

He opened the door to find a police officer there.

"Morning, sir," the man greeted him, removing his cap and tucking it under his arm. "I'm apologise for the interruption, but is the Guardian house?"

Bunny blinked, before nodding.

"Oh, good. I was afraid I missed it." The officer laughed lightly, then cleared his throat under Bunny's level expression. "Anyway, I'm here to see Jack Guardian? I believe that he's a witness in a case."

"Not home," was his short answer.

"Oh, I see. Hmm." The officer pursed his lips together. "Well, do you know when he'll be back?"

"Nope."

"I see. Well, here's a number." He thrust a small slip of paper into Bunny's reluctant palm. "Please let me know when he returns. Any information he can provide might help us immensely."

"Sure."

"Well, I'll be off then." The officer set the cap back on his head, and was about to step down the porch when his eyes flitted to the glass in Bunny's hand. "I say, what's that?"

"Tea."

"Hmm. Interesting colour." The man stroked his chin, then shot him a grin. "Well, thanks for your time, Mr. Guardian."

Bunny didn't tell him 'no problem', because he hadn't liked the conversation in the slightest, but he didn't say anything as he watched the policeman climbed into car. He sighed as it occurred to him that he no longer had ride.

"Darn it, you cocky little twerp," he muttered under his breath as he drew the door shut. "Where are you?"

~~~0~~~

 _1:32pm: "Where are you?"_

So it had been only a few minutes after the agreed time, but she was getting impatient.

She had only been to Burgess' Gallery of Art twice in her life and both were during school trips. For such a small town, the Museum was actually one of note. It had belonged to a wealthy European lord or some kind who had migrated to America in the fifties. He had settled in south of the town and had poured his money into various institutions, including the university and the bank. When he had died, he had donated his personal collection of art pieces to the town council and they had built a gallery to house it. It was a tourist hotspot; one of the few legitimate hotspots in town, actually, other than the usual souvenir shops nearer the town centre.

She was seated in front of an 18th Century Italian painting of a nude Aphrodite, whose hand triumphantly raised the golden apple that Paris had presented to her, proclaiming her title as the most beautiful. By her side, Athena and Hera seethed in jealousy, for they had not gotten the prize though their own beauty was well-matched. Around them, shadow shrouded, with faint images of weapons and bones that signified the looming war of Troy due to Paris' actions.

" _Vanity is fatal combination of beauty and pride,"_ had been her tutor's comment on the painting, as far as Elsa's remembered it. _"For it was vanity that divided Aphrodite from the other goddesses. It later drove Paris to steal Helen away, and the Greeks to attack the Trojans, and so on. Beauty itself was often regarded a virtue in the Classical art, but this painter had chosen, rather extraordinarily to show the vices that could emerge from what is meant to pure."_

Beauty plus pride equals vanity equals destruction, essentially.

Eventually, she got bored of looking at the same painting, so her gaze rolled over to the others in the vicinity. _'The Devil's Brow'_ – some painting of French armies by a Russian painter who was convinced that Napoleon was Satan and the French invasion was the End Times. ' _Portrait of an Ugly Aristocrat'_ was literally a portrait of an extremely ugly unidentified aristocrat. Apparently, the portrait had offended the extreme sensibilities of some viewers over the years, so a bullet-proof case had been set over it – just to prevent anymore deranged gunmen from shooting it. _'The Sight of Blind'_ was a modern piece by some artist who thought it was great idea to paint while blindfolded. The random splatter on canvas, he claimed, depicted the inner turmoil of the mind.

Elsa sniffed as she glanced down at her gloved hands. As if the painter knew _anything_ about the turmoil of the mind.

"It's Elsa, isn't it?"

She whipped around to find herself staring up a familiar young man. "What are you doing here?"

"To give you the explanation I promised." The redheaded young man sat herself down. Noting her confused expression, Hans removed a phone from his pocket, holding it out to her. The screen read:

 _Elsa:_

 _1:30pm: Where are you?_

The girl lifted her head at him, her eyes widening.

"He should have put a lock," was his calm comment as he slipped the phone back in his pocket, as if it were perfectly normal to have someone else's phone in his possession. "It wouldn't have been so easy to break in otherwise."

Elsa's brow furrowed together, suspicion and concern pooling in her stomach. "Why do you have Jack's phone?"

"Oh, um." He glanced down at his watch quite nonchalantly. "He dropped it while trying to kill me."

The blonde girl blinked, taken aback by this bizarre declaration. "What?"

"He dropped it while trying to kill me," the redhead repeated plaintively, annoyed. "The only reason why he hadn't finished the job was because I managed to stab him back. One of his cronies had taken him away before I could finish the job though." He grimaced.

Stabbing? Killing? Bleeding? "What are you talking about?"

"I promised to give you the truth." Hans drew up his sleeve, revealing the tattoo that she had only caught a glimpse of before. "I am not a volunteer from the hospital. Rather, I'm a member of the Van Helsing Brotherhood, dedicated to eliminating creatures that pose a threat to humanity."

"What?" She couldn't believe her ears. He was mad.

"I know you find this hard to believe, but it's true. I assure you. In fact-" he let out a loud exhale, as if what he wanted to say was very difficult indeed "-one such creature is responsible for the attack on your sister. She is very fortunate to have survived the creature." He rolled his sleeves back up, covering the tattoos once more.

Despite her incredulity at the entire situation – what from meeting Hans instead of Jack, and discovering that he had lied - Elsa couldn't help wanting to know what exactly 'creature' this. "What creature are you talking about?"

His head swung immediately in her direction, not a flicker of jest as he told her, " _Nosferatu."_

She eyed him quizzically.

"Blood-suckers." There was an edge in his voice, just barely hiding his detestation. "Vampires."

As disturbed as Elsa was by his behaviour, it was nice for once not to be the problematic one. "You're mad."

"Hardly." He scoffed at her. "Just better-informed."

"You're absolutely bonkers." The girl rose to her feet, a tremor of fear running up her spine, followed by a wash of anger as she tried to suppress the fear. Glancing around her, she realised in her horror that she was alone with him in the Gallery. "I'm leaving." She spun around, clutching her gloved hands firmly in front of herself as she stomped hastily away.

"You know that such creatures exist, Elsa, even if you never knew what they were called," she heard Hans – was that even his real name? – shout out to her, even as her steps echoed through the gallery. "How else do you explain the 'shadows' that killed your parents?"

Against her own volition, her feet stopped, her heart nearly stopping as well. Slowly, the blonde girl turned back around, marching straight up to the redhead man, who smirking that at his little reveal. "You-" clenching a fist at him "-how do you know?"

"The Brotherhood had access to your medical files. I read your testimony, and also how no one believed you." He stepped towards her, unafraid of her proffered fist. It was only then that she realised how well-built he was, like a soldier. "Like the way you don't believe me."

He had a point. She lowered her arms, dropping them back down by her sides, but her doubts were still not settled. "What do you want with me?"

"I only desire your cooperation so that we can catch your sister's attacker." He pursed his lips. "Or attackers."

"There's more than one of these things?" Elsa was aghast. It was hard enough imagining that one of these vampire-things (she wouldn't call them vampires till she saw it with her own eyes.)

"Yes. In fact, many of them live in groups. It improves the hunt." He gestured for her to sit back down on the bench, and she did with warily. He followed back down and sat with her. "I have been tracking one of these so-called 'families' in this town in hopes of learning more about them. Unfortunately, they have discovered my presence and are now trying to kill me."

"Okay, but-" she gestured towards herself "-how am I involved?"

"Right. Um, how do I put this-" Hans pressed his fingers together as he pondered, making a face "-well, it's your boyfriend's family."

~~~0~~~

 **This story is on the roll! Whooo!**

 **If you don't remember, back in Chapter 4, when Mrs. Bennett was killed, it was mentioned that she had two children. Jack killed the eldest, leaving the son which is now his niece's husband.**

 **Jack's dislike of French is supposed to be the prejudice during his day when England and France were fighting. A LOT.**

 **The idea of witches in this story is adheres more to medieval ideas of witches, because they are somehow always female and pretty brutal. So…hence this interpretation.**

 **Oh, Rapunzel from Tangled. Eventually I was going to bring her in. As assuming as the idea of a silver frying pan is, I couldn't really see the scene work out.**

 **Bunny … doesn't really get on that well with humans.**

 **Hans isn't dead. Tada! But how? That's the question.**

 **Lock your phones, guys. It's not an 'if' – people will try to steal your data.**

 **Guest Review Mailbox:**

 **Alene Mask: Thank you for your lovely review. So glad that you've enjoyed these ROBTFD stories, though they are a dying breed...sigh. I love sarcasm in stories. It makes the simplest stories a good deal of fun to read.**

 **Reviews as always are appreciated.**


	7. Chapter 7

_Blood Blini (by North)_

 _What you need:_

 _4 raw eggs_

 _6 hard boiled eggs_

 _1 1/2 cups of milk_

 _1 cup of water_

 _6 Tablespoons of melted butter_

 _2 cups flour_

 _4 cups of pork blood, congealed_

 _1/2 Tablespoon of butter_

 _1 minced onion_

 _1/4 cup broth_

 _2 Tablespoon of Olive oil_

 _1/2 Teaspoon of salt_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)In mixing bowl, add eggs, milk, butter, salt and flour. Mix until well combined. This is the batter for the blini._

 _2)On a nonstick frying pan, spread a thin layer of olive oil._

 _3)With a ladle, pour batter until spread evenly and thinly over the surface of the pan._

 _4)Cook until golden brown. Flip over and cook for a twenty seconds. Remove quickly._

 _5)Repeat until all batter is used up._

 _6)For the blood filling, process the congealed pork blood in a processor until minced pieces of blood are formed._

 _7)To clean frying pan, add minced onion over oil. Fry until translucent._

 _8)In a separate mixing bowl, add cooked onions, shredded hard boil eggs, blood and broth. Mix till well combined._

 _9)Add blood mix to the crepe sheet, and roll up._

 _10) Repeat for rest of the crepe sheets._

 _11)In clean frying pan, add a thin layer of olive oil again. Place rolls on the pan and heat for 30 seconds. Flip over rolls to cook the other side._

 _12) Serve with cold sour cream or jam._

~~~0~~~

"Jack? The Guardians?"

The young man nodded.

She blinked, shaking her head. "Well, first off, he's not my boyfriend."

Hans rolled his eyes, muttering something in a language she didn't understand, before continuing on, "Well, Jack Guardian is certainly one of the vampires that I've been looking for."

"You must be mistaken." Elsa shook her head. She thought of the white-haired boy – his awkward manners, his love for mischief, his sweet sincerity. She couldn't compare him to the dark shadow that haunted her nightmares. "What evidence do you have?"

"Maybe you should tell me the evidence," the redhead murmured, choosing at that moment to adjust the cuffs of his sleeve. When she shot him a quizzical expression, he elaborated, "Have you ever witnessed him drink blood?"

"No," she denied scornfully, then paused. "Well, I've seen him eat it. But that was just once." Pause. "Twice." Pause. "A few times." Pause. "So what if he likes the taste of blood? Plenty of cultures over the world eat animal blood. It's a delicacy."

"Whatever you say." Hans sounded skeptical as he went on to the next question. "Does he avoid sunlight?"

"That means nothing." She snorted. "Even I hate the sun. I don't understand people who like the beach! What's wrong with them?"

"Have you seen him react adversely to garlic?"

"He's just allergic!" The blonde girl threw her hands up in the air. "There's nothing evil about being allergic!"

"So at that time when he had an 'allergy attack', you took him to a hospital? Or a clinic?" was Hans' innocent question.

"No…" Elsa said slowly. "He was taken home. But-" she hastily put in when she saw the young man's triumphant expression "-that could have just been because he had medication at home. That's all."

"Have you ever seen him in the mirror?"

She peered curiously at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Have you ever seen him in a mirror?" he repeated, getting a little impatient. "Vampires don't have reflections."

It took her a while to absorb this bizarre conception. No reflections? Surely in all their time together, she would have noticed if Jack didn't have a reflection, wouldn't she? Mirrors were fairly common place. Then again, when she was with him, her eyes were not exactly on her surroundings.

"Look, I can't stay here all day," Hans said, rising to his feet. "I'm sure the Guardians are already trying to track me down. To shut me up, if not to get revenge. Vampires are a spiteful lot." He let out a sniff as he straightened out his coat. Assessing the young girl slumped against the bench, he sighed. "The truth is, Elsa, I don't think I can capture the Guardians on my own. I need your help."

"I don't understand." And she certainly didn't. She had met most of Jack's family. They were a bit odd, sure, but they were all very polite and kind. Even Jack's elder brother, who was the gruffest of them, was nothing but a gentleman to her. She couldn't imagine any of them attacking Anna. "Why do you have to capture them in the first place?"

"Because they are a threat to human society, Elsa." She registered in the corner of vision him crouching down next to her, his deep green eyes gazing at her with such a regretful resolve that she couldn't doubt his earnestness. This was not some malicious scheme of bloodlust, but a genuine desire to do what was right. She couldn't help but admire that. "I'm not calling you to be a hero, but I want you to understand. The Guardians may seem like nice people now, your boyfriend especially-"

"Not my boyfriend," she corrected. A bitter of her noted that she just a day ago, she wouldn't have minded if the title were true.

"-but it's all just a trick to make you trust them. Don't, Elsa. For goodness' sake." He took one of her gloved hands in his own, making her lift her head in surprise. On her palm, he deposited a gleaming metal ring. "This is made of pure silver. It burns the skin of vampires. I know you don't believe me, so go and test it yourself. For your sister's sake, and your own-" he closed her hand over the metal ornament "-do be careful."

He let go of her hand then, straightening himself back up and granted her a grim smile. "Contact me when you change your mind."

Bowing slightly, he turned on his heel and marched his way out of the gallery. As he did, he halted briefly to look at the 'Portrait of an Ugly Aristocrat'. "That fellow is truly ugly, isn't he?" he remarked with a chortle.

Not waiting for a response, Hans continued his stroll down the gallery and eventually disappeared from view, leaving the girl cradling the silver ring and pondering over all that had been said.

On one hand, it was ridiculous. Jack couldn't possibly be…some weird creature of myth, nor the Guardians. This whole notion was way too unbelievable. However, if this were true, well, it would perfect sense. His reluctance to commit; his avoidance of her questions; the objections of his family. If it was true that the Guardians were secretly a ring of homicidal blood-drinkers, the last thing they would want was their youngest member to be consorting with their victims.

If any of this was really true.

"Oh, Jack," she murmured to herself, pressing the ring between her thumb and her forefinger. She wished that instead of Hans, it was really the white-haired boy who met her this afternoon. She would have much rather had heard the truth from him – whether it'd be Hans' peculiar story, or some other tragic drama tale, or anything. As long as he could honest with her, she would try, at the very least, to understand him.

If he couldn't trust her, how could she trust him?

~~~0~~~

 _Tandoori Blood Tikka (by Tooth)_

 _What You Need:_

 _400g of cubed Blood Tofu_

 _3 tablespoons of Vegetable Oil_

 _4 tablespoon of Olive Oil_

 _6 tablespoons of Fresh Lemon Juice_

 _1 cup of Greek Yogurt_

 _3 tablespoon of Fresh Onion Paste_

 _1 tablespoon of Fresh Ginger Paste_

 _1/2 tablespoon of Turmeric_

 _1 tablespoon of Coriander Powder_

 _1 tablespoon of Cumin Powder_

 _1/4 tablespoon of Cinnamon Powder_

 _1 tablespoon of Red Chili Powder_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1) For marinade, add to a large bowl: Greek Yogurt, Olive Oil, Fresh Onion Paste, Fresh Ginger Paste and 4 tablespoon of Lemon Juice. Mix till smooth._

 _2) Add all powdered spices. Mix evenly._

 _3) Add Blood Tofu cbues into bowl. Ensure that all the cubes are evenly covered by the marinade._

 _4) Cover the bowl and refrigerate overnight._

 _5) Preheat oven._

 _6) Prepare a tray by lining it with vegetable oil. Spread marinated tofu cubes over it evenly._

 _7) Bake until tofu is evenly cooked. Stop halfway to turn pieces over if needed._

 _8) Serve with mint yogurt sauce over basmati rice._

~~~0~~~

"A brand new century, and the world looks exactly the same as yesterday."

"Aye, it does," his companion agreed. They were seated on the porch of the wooden cottage, gazing at the starry expanse above and the shadow-filled grasslands. The humid winds rolled over their skins, with crickets chirping in harmony to the rustling plants.

"Well, it's a new beginning, nonetheless," the young woman amongst them handed them steaming cups of tea, smiling sweetly. "Perhaps now with the fighting over, we might look forward to better things." At a distance, they could hear singing coming from the settlement, where British soldiers attempted 'Auld Lang Syne' in drunken, off-pitch baritones. Raising her own filled cup like a toast, she said, "To the eighteen-hundreds, that it might be a better century for us all."

"To the eighteen-hundreds," echoed her companions joyously, before they downed their cups.

North had acquired the tea off a boat from Canton. It was quite popular amongst the wealthier officers in the East India Company, especially on cool, leisurely nights like this one. It was commodity to be savored, but Jack still grimaced as he swallowed the hot liquid. Till this day, he had yet to be accustomed to taste of the Orient.

Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that he was still not used to the taste of human beverages, and likewise their food.

"Are you alright, Jack?" the Russian man by his side asked. He must have noted the grimace on Jack's face. "Does the tea not suit your taste?"

"I'm afraid I do not quite possess a liking for Chinese tea," he said, forcing a smile on his face as he lowered the cup back to its saucer. "It's far too weak for my taste." _Drinking this was pointless. It provided no nourishment, nor did it quench his thirst._ He was tired of all this, but he did not say so.

"Well, I have to concede with Jack on this one," the young woman agreed with a measure of pride, though she did take another sip. "There's nothing that quite compares to a strong cup of the brew from Assam."

If any Englishman were to hear her speak, they would rub their eyes and gawk at her in surprise. For Tooth - as she begged her companions to call her since her real name was far too long – could speak as any English lady. Though she still chose to garb the traditional sari of her kinswoman, she also carried herself with a gentility and grace that would have easily contested that of the governor's wife.

She had educated herself, North had told Jack once, in the ways of westerners so that she could learn from

them. She especially enjoyed in devouring texts of science that missionaries had carried from across the sea. If it wasn't for the colour of her skin and her being a woman, North was convinced she would have headed for Europe and climbed the ranks of academia long ago.

Besides her curious diet, of course.

North had met her through a mutual friend, but who that mutual friend was, Jack didn't know. "You will meet him someday," was all the Russian had told him, a twinkle in his eye. The white-haired boy had no idea who this friend was, but with the way Tooth and North spoke of him, he seemed to be quite remarkable.

Kicking against the wooden boards of the porch, Jack rose to his feet. "I think I want to go for a walk."

"At this time of the night?" North raised a bushy brow at him.

"Most of the shops in town would be closed now," Tooth piped in, lifting the metal pot to refill North's cup. "The streets would only be filled with soldiers and lascars. It'd be quite rowdy down there."

Jack smiled slightly as he noted the concern in her tone. In the thirty years that North and himself had stayed with her, he had discovered her to be quite a motherly woman. He had never been fussed over as much as he had been in her presence. He didn't really mind it – it was nice to be cared for - but sometimes he wondered if she forgot that he wasn't a child. He hadn't been since the death of his birth mother, when he had started to make a living for his sister and himself. But Tooth did not know this. She could not be blamed for ignorance – he'd never told her.

"I'll be fine," Jack assured her. She sighed, but spoke no objection, merely returning back inside the house to refill the pot.

As the white-haired boy descended the steps of the porch, he heard North call out, "Jack."

He slowed his pace, turning to face the large man. His expression was questioning.

The Russian sipped from his cup, swallowed, then said in full seriousness, "If anyone bleeds, run."

"Yes, sir."

North grunted. "Have a good walk."

Jack nodded, returning to his stroll down the dirt path.

The cottage that Tooth had built was quite some distance from the capital, but a vampire could move more quickly than human. So within minutes, the boy found his feet stepping on flattened dirt ground, flanked by the painted plaster buildings. As Tooth had guessed, the shops were all closed and the docks were quiet. Most of the streets were dark, with the only light coming from the moon above and blazing fire pits around the city. A couple of soldiers were seen patrolling the streets, but they were in a jovial mood and appeared slightly inebriated. As he passed them, Jack wrinkled in his nose. Undoubtedly, someone had been drinking on the job.

He continued his aimless way down the streets, not quite sure what he was looking for. Well, he did know what he was looking for, but he had no intention of doing anything about it. In the time that he had spent with North, and now Tooth, he had ceased to drink the human blood, exchanging it for the blood of animals instead. The Indian woman had found a sustainable way to do so by draining just a bit of blood from her sheep each time, before letting them heal. While those sheep healed, she drew blood from another set of sheep, and so forth.

Blood from these animals was what she served them and most of the time, it was enough to fill their stomachs. In between feeding times, they occupy their fangs by chewing on human foods, like nuts, fruits and even meat. Their thirst was plugged by human drink, like water and tea. This routine seemed to satisfy his two companions, but if Jack were to be honest, he came away each day full but never sated.

He had never quite adapted to the taste of animal blood. For some reason, it never smelled as sweet as that from humans, nor was it as hot and fresh. All the human foods that Tooth prepared for them did not appeal to him as much as it did when he was still living. He still ate them, knowing that ceasing to do so would ignite worry in his companions' hearts, but in truth, the sweet fruits tasted of paper and the toasted meats of ash. He had been suppressing the dissatisfaction the best he could, trying to convince himself to savour the textures and the sensations, but his body would not cooperate. Against his own will, he found his thoughts drifting back to the time when he had not known about drinking animal blood, back when he had allowed himself to believe that he had no choice other than to consume the blood of humans. His conscience had been wrought then, but at least he believed that he was had no choice. At least his thirst had been quenched.

When he descended down to the near empty docks, the white-haired boy found himself passing a seedy boat house. There was no door – probably worn away by the water long ago – and he heard the sailors in there growling to each other in drawled Cantonese. He could see at least twenty of them, crowded in the small structure, sprawled on their mats and smoking their pipes, puffing themselves into oblivion. They did not notice his presence, and certainly did not notice how he shuddered and hurried away.

Back before he had turned, drunkenness and intoxication was not foreign to him, nor was gambling and other all-consuming vices. His mother had warned him against them, pointing him to the Good Book instead. While he never became as pious as she wanted him to be, Jack had kept her lessons close to his heart. The more he saw of the world, however, the more difficult it was to remember. His reality had been altered over and over. Things that he had taken for granted had been disproven and possibilities that he had never considered were now commonplace.

As the white-haired lad gazed out to the docked ships bobbing over the night tide, the salty breeze running through hair, he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of confusion and fear. When he had boarded the ship to Calcutta with North, his only goal was to leave England, to prevent himself from ever harming his sister or her family. Now here he was thirty years later, still in Calcutta, having witnessed wars between his fellow Englishmen and the natives of the land, having watched the Company grow in influence and power, having seen more anxious and broken expressions than he'd ever wanted to, and still he had no idea what he was doing with his undead existence.

Jack let out a harsh exhale as it hit him. In four years' time, he would be exactly one hundred years old. His mother was dead. His sister was probably dead too. Maybe his niece and nephews were also dead.

And here he was, trapped between suffering, self-loathing and an immortality that he had never asked for.

He felt like throwing up.

"Are you alright?"

Jack swung around, thinking that the one who had spoken would be might be a dock officer, or one of the patrolling guards. But instead, it was a thin, polished man in a distinguished black overcoat. By his fashion and his accent, Jack wasn't sure if he was English. He didn't sound French or Spanish though, so he had no idea what his origin might be.

"Forgive me if I had interrupted your reverie," the courteous fellow apologized, dipping his hat as he did. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with black hair smoothed back and a sharp, angular jaw. For his age, he could have been considered distinguished-looking. Handsome, even. "But you seem unwell. Perhaps it is the smoke?" He waved his cane toward the fuming boat house where the sailor were.

Not knowing how to explain his predicament to this stranger, nor desiring to do so in anyway, Jack nodded.

"Opium. What a ghastly creation," the distinguished fellow said with a contemptuous snort. "As if mankind doesn't have enough revolting vices to indulge in."

Though he couldn't bring himself to speak, the lad found himself agreeing with the statement. He had been disgusted when he had heard that the East India Company began a forceful cultivation of poppy crops in the region, smuggling the processed plants to Canton whether they reaped massive profits. However, a terrible famine had struck the region as a result, with millions starving to death due to the lack of crops. 'Such a waste of life,' North had said regretfully, while Tooth had seethed in silence.

"Maybe we should put some distance between ourselves and that house of hell," the gentlemanly stranger suggested. With his ebony cane, he pointed down the length dock platform as a form of invitation.

Checking himself, Jack decided that he was still full, though not satisfied, from dinner. There was no harm in having some company.

So the two strolled down the harbor, away from the opium den, allowing their nostrils to be filled only with the scent of seawater. As their boots crossed the wooden planks, Jack noted how his companion gazed frequently towards the town, then to the harbor, then back again, as one who soaking in the sights. "Is this your first time in Calcutta?"

"No, actually, but it's been a while since my last visit." His companion paused a short while to examine a schooner docked nearby. "So much has changed."

"Yes." Jack agreed. "This is after all the era of progress."

He heard his companion huff at that. "So they say."

The white-haired boy turned towards him. "You do not agree?"

"Mankind does not progress," sneered the distinguished gentleman. "They may use rifles instead of swords, and cannons instead of trebuchets, but they still continue to wrangle like mindless beasts as their ancestors did. Have you heard of what happened in Mysore?"

Jack nodded with much reluctance. When the word had swept over the town, there had been drinking and celebration amongst the British officers. In their eyes, they had squashed an insurgent foe and secured a profitable venture. However, Tooth had been morose. She herself was not from Mysore, but she felt strongly for the people who had resisted the influence of the East India Company, and who now paid the price for losing. The affair between Mysore and the Company had been a gory line of wars and the only good thing about it was that it was now over.

"Such a waste of young blood," lamented his companion, pressing his cane firmly on the ground for emphasis. "Mankind, it seems, is forever doomed to be a slave to its appetite, be it for opium or control."

"True." While his companion's words made sense, Jack couldn't help but feel a little uneasy about it. It wasn't as if he had never contemplated such on his own, but hearing them spoke so carelessly made it sound much worse. "But perhaps we are too harsh in our judgment. After all, aren't we slaves to our own appetite?"

His companion quirked a brow at him, before letting out a chuckle. "Oh, but my dear boy, we are very much above them. We deserve the privilege of indulgence. They do not."

He was taken aback by the familiarity of the stranger, and confused too. "What do you mean, sir?"

It was then his courteous, but scornful, companion ceased his steps. Jack halted then too, studying the man standing across him with greater care than before. He felt as if there was something he ought to know about this man, something he ought to recognize …

"You must be quite new to this-" an odd smile appeared on the pale gentleman's thin face "-if you had not discerned the truth of my nature."

It was then Jack decided to use his ears properly and he realized what he had missed. "You…" his jaw fell open "…don't have a heartbeat."

"No, I do not." The toothy smile widened, revealing the sharpened fangs.

"You're a vampire."

"Yes, my dear boy. I am. Don't worry. I am not offended that you've not realized it immediately." He continued strolling forward, with Jack stumbling behind, still stunned. "In fact, I find your naiveté quite amusing."

"My naiveté?" Jack repeated.

"Your forgiving nature towards mankind. Your sympathy towards them." The snicker that emerged from his throat sent shivers down the boy's spine. "It's like pitying an ant before squashing it."

He had no idea how to respond to that.

"This has been a very enlightening conversation," his companion went on as they stepped off the dock platform. Tipping his hat at Jack as a form of farewell, he added, "I do hope we might meet again, my young kinsman. You strike me as one in need of-" a thin smile formed on his lips "- _guidance_."

With that, the man started down the dusty road at a leisurely pace, leaving Jack behind, more troubled and confused than before.

The next morning, a grim story arrived at Tooth's door. In a boathouse near the docks, a group of opium-users had been found lying dead, drenched in their own blood. Their throats had been ripped open, as if by claws, and faces had been frozen in fear.

"Werewolves?" was North's comment as they sat down to eat.

Tooth shook her head as she began to divide the portions into bowls. "There are no werewolves in Calcutta. Besides, wouldn't they have eaten the bodies too?"

Jack did not say anything throughout the whole breakfast.

~~~0~~~

"More coffee, sir?"

"Thank you."

His cup was refilled by the bumbling waitress who soon moved on to the next of the guest seated in the café. He raised it up, took one sniff, then subsequently emptied its contents into the potted plant nearby.

He had booked himself in one of the humble hotels that this miserable town had to offer. It was gloomy, a bit downtrodden, with light flickering and humming. But he didn't really mind all those features. In fact, he like the atmosphere, liked how the shadows played about the corners and chased away the light,

What he didn't like were the imbecilic humans that kept bothering him.

"Ooh, my! You really down your coffee fast." The stupid waitress was back again. If it wasn't for the two other guest who were also seated in the small café, he would have gutted her long ago. "Would you like more?"

"My good madam." He spun towards her, golden eyes flashing. "Would you kindly leave me alone?"

She staggered back, stunned by his change in behaviour.

"Flush that disgusting brew down the loo while you're at it," he added brusquely, flapping open the tabloid paper as he did.

The waitress was clearly offended, if her stomping away was anything to go by, but he had long given up on caring about humans and their opinions. He kept his focus on the tabloid that he picked off the reading rack, zooming in on the article that had caught his interest – ' _DRACULA' AT LARGE: VICTIM AMNESIAC_.'

An amused smile spread across his face as he scanned the article.

' _According to extremely reliable sources, Anna Arendelle, victim of the so-called 'vampire' attack near her home along Fjord Avenue two night ago, is unable to remember her attacker's appearance. In fact, according to more accurate sources, it's been said that she has actually been drugged with a terrifying toxin that has been used in Cuban crime syndicates. Others have disputed that it was Chinese crime syndicates that used to this toxin, not Cubans. Both Chinese and Cubans in the community have been offended and said so.'_

Ah, humans. He shook his head. Their love for dramatics was only matched by their incredible stupidity.

' _Meanwhile, the town is on high alert. Police are still searching the town fervidly for the murderer at large. Schools vow to educate their students on safety guidelines with regards being out at night, though certain parent support groups have been pressing for education classes on the benefits of staying at home instead.'_

' _As for the young victim herself, she was in bright spirits when The Burgess DAILY visited her. "If anything, this experience shows how important that it is to have regular blood donors. I'd have bled to death otherwise!" she laughed.'_

 _'Under the leadership of her sister, Anna and her schoolmates are running a blood donation drive at the Burgess High School gym this coming Wednesday. Members of the public above eighteen years of age are highly encouraged to come support this cause.'_

A blood donation drive? He raised his brow as he folded the tabloid up. He had heard of such things before and he thought them preposterous. Asking people to willingly give up their blood to total strangers? What a dreadful waste of time and resources. They should just let the miscreant weaklings die off. It wasn't as if this world was exactly lacking in people.

Still he kept the date and location of the deice in mind. It might prove to be very, very useful.

~~~0~~~

"I asked them to put the donation time and place in the paper. Wasn't that just a stroke of genius?" Anna chuckled as she scrolled down the screen of her phone. "It's like a free advert."

Her sister didn't comment, continuing typing on her laptop. This kind of treatment wasn't particularly out of place. Elsa, after all, was very busy, especially with the blood donation drive coming up so soon. They had been pushing the date back over and over to get enough recruits. It had taken them so long, but everything was finally falling into place - the location, the funding, the people, the posters etc. Anna was pretty excited. Elsa was too, but her way of responding it was to worry herself into perfection. It was no small wonder that she was still stressed.

By how the other girl was slumped laziness back in her bed, it was obvious that Anna was the opposite of stressed. Her homework lay undone on the table. Thanks to her little 'vampire' incident, the doctor gave her day off from school tomorrow. So, in the spirit of procrastination, she decided to spend her time scrolling through her mobile feed instead. It was amusing to observe how her classmates and online friends strove to outdo each other in wishing her speedy recovery. She chuckled at the flurry of emojis that painted her feed pages and spent a good part of the hour sending 'thank you' messages to everyone.

Every now and then, however, she found herself switching back to check on her text inbox. Of all the people who had sent her things, she had expected Hans to be the first to send her a 'get-well-soon' text. But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

She frowned, before casting a glance towards her sister. Elsa was not looking her way, gaze still trained to her laptop screen. Anna then glanced back at her phone, where her messages to Hans had remained unanswered.

Over the last week of correspondence, she had been certain that she had a connection with the redhead young man, despite their obvious age gap. Her sister had not approved, but that was because Elsa was a prude. When it came to romance, her sister was as hapless as a child. When Hans had asked her out for Valentine's Day, Anna had accepted once she learned that Elsa too would be out on a date then (with Jack! They were like so ship-worthy! They should even have ship name!) It had been simple, just with dinner, playing a pranks on the horrid chef, going for a drive to the woods and watching the stars. But somehow, just doing it with him had felt perfect, because he was perfect.

So, how did she go from being on a perfect date to lying in a pool of blood to being absolutely … Hans-less?

Anna closed her eyes, trying to remember...

" _It's been nice." She sighed with a hint of regret, but not too much. She couldn't regret spending time with him, but she did regret that the time was now over. "But Elsa will be back soon."_

 _"I know. Yeah. Hey, there's-" he shuffled awkwardly against the dirt ground "-there's something I want to give you."_

 _"Oh?" she smirked. A Valentine's Gift? What would it be? A hand-made card? A bouquet? Or…_

 _"You have to close your eyes though." There's a mysterious expression on his face, a little smug, a little amused. "It's a surprise."_

 _…a kiss?_

 _Feigning reluctance, Anna sighed as she closed her eyes. "Alright."_

 _"Oh, put your hands behind your back."_

 _It's a kiss! It's definitely a kiss! She let out a huff of annoyance to hide her excitement, wrapping her arms behind her. "Fine."_

 _And then -_

That's where her memory stopped.

Maybe the whole date had just been a dream. Maybe Hans didn't exist and she made him up because she wanted some romance in her life.

She hadn't told the officer about this at all. How could she? Not with Elsa hovering all around. If her sister found out, Anna knew that she would hunt Hans down and rip him to pieces, no questions asked. She didn't want him to be suspected for the attack on her just because he was the last person she remembered prior to blacking out.

Because, well, Hans couldn't possibly be the 'Dracula' guy who attacked her. He loved her. He told her himself.

Then why wasn't he answering any of her messages? What happened between the time that he told her to close her eyes and the time that she collapsed in her own blood?

Wanting to distract herself from these worrisome questions, Anna called out to her sister, "Hey, you haven't told me how your date with Jack went."

Elsa didn't reply, continuing her typing.

"I know I kind of freaked you out." The girl combed the loose brown strands from her face, feeling slightly guilty. "And I'm sorry if I ruined the night for you guys. But, really - how did it go?"

All she heard for an answer was the tapping of keys against the board. "Not now, Anna."

It was then the brunette girl noticed a small ring sitting snuggly over Elsa's gloved middle right finger. She had never seen that before, so it must be new.

Sitting herself up, Anna pointed at the object in question, asking, "Did Jack give that to you?"

Elsa glanced briefly at the ring, before her eyes flitted back up to the screen. "No."

"Did you buy it for yourself?"

"No."

"So, it's a gift."

 _Tap-tap-tap._ Elsa's finger shifted to the touchpad, making a 'click'. "In a way."

Anna's eyes narrowed, a rush of suspicion rising up her system. "Is it from another boy?"

It was there only for a fraction of a second, a flash of … _guilt_?, before her expression was neutral. "Don't be silly, Anna."

She was lying - straight out lying. Anna frowned. Elsa kept secrets, yes, but never lied.

Right?

Suddenly, she had a horrible feeling that Elsa might be the reason Hans hadn't been contacting her. The things was – was it just because Elsa didn't approve of him, or was there something else?

Something else that would cause her elder sister to stray from Jack?

With a great deal more seriousness, Anna repeated her earlier question. "How did your date with Jack go?"

Elsa's head jerked sharply towards her, eyes glittering with such ferocity that almost made Anna slip off her bed. Without even looking at it, the elder slammed her laptop shut, announcing, "I'm going to work in the dining room. Don't wait up."

No further explanations, no meaningful looks – she just departed the room, leaving the younger Arendelle alone. Anna curled herself up in a ball, perplexed and, if she dared to admit, more than a little hurt.

~~~0~~~

 _Lebkuchen, by Sandy_

 _What you need:_

 _1 cup of plain flour_

 _1 tablespoon baking powder_

 _1 cup of clear honey_

 _2 tablespoon of ground ginger_

 _1 tablespoon of ground cinnamon_

 _6 tablespoons of ground almond_

 _1 grated zest of a lemon_

 _6 tablespoons of melted butter_

 _1/2 cup of icing sugar_

 _1 egg white, beaten_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1) Preheat oven._

 _2) In a mixing bowl, add flour, baking powder, ground ginger, cinnamon and almond._

 _3) Add melted butter in with lemon zest. Mix well first with mixer, than with hands. Until well combine._

 _4) Rest for 30 minutes._

 _5) With the dough, roll small chunks into balls of 1 inch in radius. Do so until no more dough._

 _6) Place the balls of dough on a baking tray, lined with baking sheet. Ensure adequate room between them. Use two trays if required._

 _7) Put in oven and bake for 20 minutes. Adjust timing according to biscuit thickness._

 _8) Add icing sugar and egg white to new mixing bowl. Mix. Add water if required._

 _9) Remove biscuits from oven to cool._

 _10) Once cooled, dip top of each biscuit in icing. Leave to harden. Serve._

~~~0~~~

"Can I offer you some tea?"

"Does it have blood in it?"

She eyed him quizzically. "No."

"No thanks then."

The doctor shrugged, before pouring herself a cup. She set her mug on the glass table before returning to the kitchen with the kettle.

Evening had come and Dr. Fitzherbert's shift was over. Before he had reawaken for the second time, Merida had already left for Burgess, citing her parents and having to prepare for a school day tomorrow as an excuse. Jack however couldn't follow her, since his youthful doctor insisted he go through at least two more bags of blood before she discharged him. The doctor couldn't leave him in her clinic overnight, nor could she leave him in the care of her peers given the sensitivity of his … dietary requirements. So in a remarkable show of generosity and trust, she had driven him to her home and set him up to with IV tubes in her living room.

Worried that the Guardians might be worrying about him, he had asked to borrow the doctor's phone, only to realise that he didn't actually remember any phone numbers. Reliance on modern technology, he noted in chagrin, had weakened his memory. So he asked to borrow a laptop instead, only to remember that other than himself, the Guardians were woefully unskilled in using computers and attempting to contact them this way was as fruitful as planting orchids in Antarctica. After much thought, he finally decided on another whom to contact.

Pressing on the call button, Jack waited, tapping his foot and eyeing the crimson tubes attached to his stomach. On the first try, the call didn't go through. But on the second try, he finally heard well-known nasally voice from the computer speakers, " _WHAT?"_

"Oh, hey, Hiccup," Jack greeted sheepishly. "I hope you're not too busy."

 _"BUSY?"_ He could almost hear his normally mild-mannered friend bursting in anger. _"TODAY IS MY WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!"_

"Oh, er, congratulations?"

He heard Hiccup swear under his breath, before muttering through grit teeth, " _Is that all?"_

"Er, no." He sucked in a breath. "You have a driver's license, right?"

" _Yes_."

"And a car?"

" _Yes_." The other boy's voice was wary.

"I'm kind of stuck in Corona now and I can't contact the Guardians. Can you drive me home?"

" _Jack_ ," Hiccup's tone was so tight that it was a wonder that it hadn't snapped " _today is my wedding anniversary day. What am I doing on my anniversary day?"_

The white-haired boy frowned, scratching his head thoughtfully. "You, ah, are …"

" _I am…"_ Hiccup prompted.

"-celebrating-"

 _"I literally just told you the answer."_

The image of the 'wedding' invitation came to his mind. The hotel. The viking theme. Jack paled. "Oh, no."

" _Exactly_." Hiccup was growling into the mouthpiece. " _And my phone started ringing while I was talking to my father-in-law, who, by the way, is starting to wonder if it's my secret mistress calling me."_

"You have a secret mistress?"

Jack could almost hear Hiccup's glare over the speakers.

"Errr, so," he hurriedly tried to detract from that road of conversation. "So, still any chance I can hitch a ride?"

" _Don't you have other friends to bother?"_

"Not any that won't ask questions about why I'm in Corona."

" _Yeah, actually - why are you in Corona?"_

"Long story. Will you please-" he clasped his hands together in a pleading motion though Hiccup couldn't actually see if "-please come take me home? I have a literature test tomorrow and not to mention a French assignment that I haven't started on. If I don't finish up on it, I'll die."

 _"Is there really no other way? Can't you run home yourself? Don't tell me vampires are actually slower than cars now."_

"Err, I'm kind of-" he glanced down at the bandages under the his baggy shirt. It still sort of hurt when he shifted his ribs "-mobility impaired at the moment."

 _"Are you sure you can't contact the Guardians?"_

"Unless I can train a carrier pigeon in less than ten years, no."

" _Must it really be me?"_

"Well-" he tapped his chin in thought "-you can drop a message at my house and tell the Guardians where I am."

There was a pregnant pause. Then finally - " _Send me your location."_

"Awesome." Jack rolled his finger of the pad on the laptop and sent the GPS coordinates of the house. He hoped that Dr. Fitzherbert didn't mind. She seemed pretty nice – except for the time that she pulled a silver-bullet gun on him. "Thanks. I owe you one."

" _You owe me way more than that,"_ Hiccup snapped, before letting out a groan. " _Astrid's going to divorce me…"_

With that, the call ended and Jack logged himself out of the computer, shutting it down. Conveniently, that was also the time when the doctor returned to the living room. He noted that she had changed out of her work clothes into a lighter set of garments. Her long blonde hair had been undone from its thick braid, flowing behind her like an endless river of gold. She approached him with a plate of cookies. "Want one? I made them myself."

"What do you have?" he inquired. His stomach was technically being filled with the blood flowing into it from the bag, but his jaws wanted something to munch.

"Well, there's chocolate, butter, white chocolate and oh,-" she let out a little giggle, making her seem suddenly much younger than her profession would permit "-cinnamon apple."

Jack accepted the white chocolate cookie, while Dr. Fitzherbert took a cinnamon apple one, sitting across him. From her simple and spacious home, she seemed to be fairly well off for someone who's just a humble physician. Also, a bungalow for one person seemed a bit much. He wondered if she had anyone staying with her, and whether that person would mind having a vampire in her home.

Anyway, what was the doctor thinking when she invited him into her home? That was, like, the number one thing not to do with a vampire. Wasn't she afraid of the consequences? I mean, he was a flippin' blood drinking vampire!

But then again, what kind of doctor would dare treat a vampire?

Scratch that. What kind of doctor actually knew how treat a vampire?

His pondering must have been obvious, for the doctor then remarked, "You seem like you want to ask me something."

"I do, actually," Jack admitted. "Quite a few things actually, Dr. Fitzherbert."

"Just call me Rapunzel. I'm technically off duty." The doctor laughed. It was quite a pleasant laugh, he discovered. "Well, let's see if I can't work out your questions. Hmm." She nibbled her cookie. "How did I know how to treat you?"

He nodded.

"Well, I've been around for a while. I've seen quite a few extraordinary patients." There was a twinkle in her eye when she said that. "And some of those patients happen to vampires."

"Whoa." Jack's eyes widened. "So you're like a doctor for magic creatures?"

She chuckled at the notion. "Well, I suppose so. I'm no expert in magic though. My expertise is in-" she smiled mysteriously "-unique physiologies."

"Whoa." He couldn't help repeating himself. It sounded rather impressive. "Where did you learn it?"

Dr. Fitzherbert – or as Jack reminded himself to call her, Rapunzel – shrugged. "I had some books and I've done my own research, but a good deal is trial and error."

"Cool." Something that she had said earlier set off an alarm in his head, and he found himself leaning forward as he asked, "Wait, what do you mean that you've 'been here for a while'?"

A mysterious smile appeared on her face, and she tilted her head to the side. "How old do you think I am, Jack?"

He stared at her for a long moment, knowing full well what her question implied. He perked his ears up, listening hard. But, wait… "I don't understand. You have a heartbeat – a normal one too."

"Vampires are hardly the only aged beings to walk the Earth," Rapunzel told him, holding out the plate to him once again. "I'm a five hundred and thirty-eight, by the way."

He accepted a chocolate cookie this time, shoving the whole thing in his mouth at once. His eyes searched her thoroughly for any sign of deception, or any side of a talisman that she might be wearing to disguise her appearance, but there was none. While he knew that vampires were not the only immortal creatures, he knew that none lived quite as long as vampires did, and almost none that lived in perfect health and supernatural strength. He knew that Hiccup's aging would overtake his with a century, and a witch like Merida would age normally like any human even if she did live to a hundred. The possibility of sprites and fays came to mind, but Bunny told him that the race was a lot more smaller in size and most were already extinct. Besides, she looked too human to fit any of those classifications.

"How?" was all he could push out of his throat.

"The story is rather long." She looped a long gold strand behind her ear, and he suddenly had a feeling that her tale might be attached to her curiously gold hair. "But it'd suffice to say that I have a curse of sorts." Yep, it's hair. Someone write his bet down and place ten bucks next to it, because it's totally the hair. "What about you?"

"Me?" He was puzzled. "You want to know why I'm immortal? Well, I'm a vampire."

"No, not that." She shook her head, smiling still, but sadder now, as if admitting her curse, whatever that was, was truly unpleasant for her. She pointed to the bag of blood hanging of the IV rack. "Why were you so agitated about being hooked up to human blood? I mean, don't all vampire drink human blood?"

"Oh." He had actually been trying to forget that the blood entering his system was indeed human blood. He didn't want to consciously register the fact, just in case the blood made him feel sated and energized. He might very well start regretting his animal-source-only diet in the future and that was a mistake he didn't want to make again. "It's a long story. Suffice to say though, I drink, or eat, animal blood. Only."

"Animal blood?" She seemed genuinely intrigued by this idea. "You drink animal blood only? On a normal basis?"

"Yes," he confirmed, surprised by her interest.

"Oh. Wow." Rapunzel leaned back into her seat, pushing back her long golden fringe. He didn't understand her reaction. Was this really such a foreign concept? "I never thought that that would even be sustainable. I mean, I've read countless studies." She shook her head. "Vampires can eat human food, but it can never be a replacement for nutrients. Animal blood has effects, but a complete switch has been proven to be impossible over and over."

"Well, it's not," Jack contradicted, feeling an odd surge of pride as he declared it. "The Guardians are proof of that."

Her head jerked sharply towards him. "There's more than one of you?"

He grinned.

The doctor was flustered, fidgeting strangely in her seat. "This is mind-blowing! Avant-garde! I need to hear all about this. You need to tell me at once. No, wait." She leapt off her chair, sprinting across the living room and out to a joined corridor. "I'm getting writing material. Be right back!"

With his hostess-cum-doctor gone, Jack found himself bored once again. He glanced at the bag of blood attached to him. Still one quarter of it left to go. He sighed. He hoped that it would be done by the time Hiccup came for him.

It was then he heard the turning of keys, followed by the squeaking of hinges. It sounded like it was coming from the entrance hall of the bungalow. Jack's sharp ears picked up on the steps that were walking stealthily towards him, turning around the bend towards the living room. He heard a masculine voice, "So, I was just driving home today and passed Martha's bakery, and thought to my-"

It broke off when the owner of voice himself appeared in the living room. He was a lean, toned, young man in his mid-twenties dressed in some kind of uniform, which didn't seem to fit his cavalier, nonchalant manner. In one hand, he was carrying a box of cupcakes, and in the other he was carrying a bouquet of flowers. This would all have been very sweet if Jack hadn't noticed one thing missing from the picture.

This young man standing before him had no heartbeat.

Dropping the box of donuts and the flowers, the man whipped out a gun much similar to that of Dr. Fitzherbert and pointed it at him.

~~~0~~~

Tooth and North were away for the week, which meant that Jack would have to stay at the cottage alone. Doing so meant that he would have to bleed the sheep himself and patch their wounds. He also had to contain, filter and prepare the blood on his own - all without being discovered by their human neighbours and without going into a killing frenzy. It was a huge risk to let him do this alone. Jack recognised that, and was proud that his friends – dare he call them that? - trusted him enough.

"If you need anything else to chew on, I've got plenty stored in the pantry," Tooth had told him, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Help yourself to any of it."

North merely pat his shoulder and wished him good luck. "You can do this, _yúnosha_."

It had been nice to have the place to himself for a while, but after a while, he grew bored. He hadn't picked reading much on, no matter how many times North urged him to learn, so he couldn't read any of Tooth's books. He had no passion for gardening - not that any of them really did gardening. Thanks to his enhanced strength and speed, doing chores was extraordinarily efficient, leaving him with way too much time on his hands.

After sweeping the porch for the tenth time that day, he eventually decided to go down to town. North had given some money before leaving - to buy a treat for himself, he had said. Perhaps he would purchase himself a new set of boots. His old ones had missing their soles for the longest time.

So he did go to town and he did purchase himself a new pair of boots. It was made of leather, designed in France, the shopkeeper informed him with pride. They looked fantastic, but being new, they weren't very comfortable. So after walking a while in them, he stripped them off and slung them over his shoulder, walking barefoot instead.

And that was pretty much all he had on his agenda for the day. It was only ten in the morning. He wondered where Tooth and North were.

When he headed back to the cottage, a peculiar overcast came over the sun, providing a nice shade for him to walk around in. Thank goodness for it, because wearing a full overcoat to cover his pale skin in the blazing heat was all but baking him alive. He did fine it strange, though, to see such weather. From all his time in Calcutta, he knew that now was still the hottest season of year.

As he neared home, he was surprised to see a figure waiting by the porch of the house. Puzzled, he found himself hurrying forward, wondering if it was Tooth or North there.

He only grew more confounded when he arrived at the bottom step of the porch to find that the figure loitering there was not anyone he had expected.

His mouth fell open in a gasp. "You!"

"Ah, the young fellow I've been hoping to see." The pale, gaunt man he had met the week before at the docks greeted him once again, the tipping of his hat. "How do you do?"

Jack didn't know how to answer, but he took three wary steps back.

"What's the matter, my dear boy?" the 'courteous' gentleman approached him, cane swinging and slapping against the ground. "Don't tell me you're afraid of me?" He sounded quite amused by the prospect.

"You're the one who killed the smokers in the boathouse, aren't you?" the blunt question flew straight from his lips. His knees were bent and his hips readied in a twist, all prepared to sprint away. "All twenty of them?"

The man stared down at him, resting his palms on the head of his cane. Cocking his head to the side, he asked, "Is it a crime to kill animals?"

"They weren't animals," Jack snarled back, fist clenching. His muscles were screaming at him to run but his pride rooted him to the ground. "They were men – flesh and blood men."

"So self-righteous. So naïve." The shadowy gentleman clucked his tongue, shaking his head sadly. "Really, my dear boy, have you never slaughtered a flock of beasts before?"

The boy didn't answer.

"What about a team of men?"

Still no response.

"An entire settlement?"

He said nothing, but the terror in his eyes revealed all.

Unfortunately, this did not escape the notice of the unwelcome caller. "Ah, you are ashamed. That's curious. Why?"

"Why? Why shouldn't I be?" He could feel disgust growing within him as he thought back to the first night that he emerged fully turned, when he was unbelievably thirsty. Someone would think it vengeance that he had wiped out the very people who had planned to have him wrongfully executed, but no wrong had ever righted wrong, all the more so when those punished included innocent strangers. There was no excuse for his carnage.

"You needed to feed, and you succeeded in doing so," the gentleman told him very matter-of-factly. "If they were unable to defend themselves against you, then that itself justifies your victory."

"Victory?" Jack gawked at him. "I slaughtered them!"

"And they deserved it. It is not fitting that the strong defeat the weak?" was the answer, so cold and merciless that it struck the lad right in the core, stunning him. The pale gentleman peered at Jack up and down, sighing. "Oh, you poor boy. Beating yourself up over such matters. It's a pity that North placed such ideas in your head."

The white-haired vampire blinked. "Wait. You know North?"

The older fellow let out a low chuckle. "Of course I do. How else did I know the address of his residence?"

Jack drew himself back, forehead creased and arms trembling. He gaped at the towering, imposing figure that loomed before him. The skies above that had been so blue just hours ago seemed to darkened more than ever. Shadows seemed to surround the pale figure, sharpening his features.

Stumbling over his words, the boy gasped, "Who-who are you?"

The older vampire merely grinned. "Perhaps you would join me this evening for a event. It would prove to be very _enlightening_ for you, I imagine."

Tapping his cane once on the ground, the figure suddenly dissolved into a colony of bats, screeching as they swept down towards the boy.

Jack hurriedly covered his face, wincing as he felt the wings scratch against his skin. But the gust of talons passed and when he lifted his head from his arms, he found that the pale gentleman was gone. Shaking his head, he headed back within the cottage, wondering if he had dreamt it all.

As he passed through the drawing room however, he noted that there was a small note left on the table. He wasn't much of reader, true, but he had picked up enough over the years to read signs and short letters. This note he knew wasn't left to him by North or Tooth, so he picked up and read it.

' _A token of goodwill, my boy.'_

The paper was stained with something red. Against his better judgment, he leaned forward and sniffed it. Blood, but not just ordinary blood, no…human blood.

In fact, the scent was much stronger than he expected. It was fresh, pulsing, warm. It was floating around the drawing room, wafting into his nostrils. He found himself moving in the direction of the scent, pace quickening over the boards. He all but flung the kitchen door open in his eagerness to discover the source.

On the clean maplewood table that Tooth used to knead dough and roll pastry lay a moaning figure. He had no idea who she was - dark-skinned, probably no older than sixteen, quite pretty, delicate thing. Maybe she was the daughter of a farmer, or one of the girls who worked cleaning clothes by the banks – he hadn't the faintest. All Jack did know was that she had Tooth's butcher knife rammed through her stomach and she was crying weakly as her blood dripped down the side of her hips, forming a small pool of crimson liquid on the floor.

Such a waste of young blood.

He knew he shouldn't do this. He knew he should run, or maybe help the poor girl. But he didn't want to.

There had been an horrendous itch growing inside of him, so gnawing and burning in him for so long that it had actually started to hurt. Why had he ever let North and Tooth convince him otherwise? Why had he been so ashamed of his nature? Why had he allowed himself to suffer?

Visceral instincts kicked in. In that moment, he was certain that all the animal blood in the world could not compare to the sweet, sweet substance contained in the veins of mankind.

~~~0~~~

 **More flashbacks. There's going to be quite a bit of them to explain what exactly The Guardians are, and how the 'pale gentleman' (whose identity should be obvious) fits into all this.**

 **Most of the stuff I know about British India and the East Indian Company comes from Wikipedia and playing computer games.**

 **Jack does have quite a bloody past.**

 **Yeah, Rapunzel has her own story. Is it important? I …honestly don't know.**

 **Guest Mailbox review:**

 **Alene Mask: I really enjoy writing cliffhangers. I really do way too much of it too. Sigh. Ah, Ice Alliance. I used to like it, but I think I haven't had the time to keep up with it in a while. More #conflictedElsa in next chapter.**

 **Do review if you enjoyed it. And to all those people whom I haven't replied your reviews to, I promise I will do it soon!**

 **Shar Out. And About. Like Stout. Piece of Trout.**

 **I'm done with myself.**


	8. Chapter 8

_Masala Chai Tea (by guest contributor, Rapunzel Fitzherbert)_

 _What you need:_

 _3 ground cardamom pods_

 _2 cinnamon sticks_

 _2 slices of peel ginger_

 _1 star anise_

 _4 cursed black peppercorns_

 _1 cup of whole milk_

 _1 cup of black tea_

 _8 spoons of honey, or to taste_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1) Place cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, star anise, black peppercorn into a saucepan._

 _2) Add water, milk and honey. Bring mixture to a boil._

 _3) Remove from heat and add tea bags. Allow to steep._

 _4) Strain mixture into mugs and serve to irritating people._

 _Note: This has absolutely no nutrition for haemovores, but it still has calming effects. I think._

 _~~~0~~~_

Two vampires.

Two mugs of chai.

Two vampires sipping two mugs of chai.

Around them was a wreck so complete that one would have thought that a hurricane had occurred. The halves of the sofa lay against the wall. An armchair over turned against the television. The glass tea table was already a goner, sitting as a sad pile of glass shards. A few decorative paintings on the walls were now lying face down on the carpet and the lamps were either rolling on their sides like wheels or smashed to smithereens.

"Sit down. Both of you." The doctor sounded very cross. She had every right to be.

Jack did as he was told, lowering himself onto the last intact chair of the entire room. He sipped his steaming tea while she picked up the bag of blood lying on the floor, moving it back to its standing rack. Dr. Fitzherbert – Rapunzel, sorry – then turned to face the man, who had sat himself on an overturned cabinet. This handsome fellow was glaring at the white-haired intruder as he sipped his own tea, only stopping when the doctor marched over him.

Her emerald pupils bore down of him, prompting the stranger to protest, "What? I'm drinking my tea." He took a long slurp for emphasis.

Rapunzel didn't seem very amused. "You wrecked our living room!"

"Ah." The aloof fellow cast a glance towards the scene of destruction, primarily at the holes in the wall. Those had been caused by him firing silver bullets out of the shiny pistol that had been confiscated from him. Jack still shuddered as he thought about what would have happened if the bullet had hit not himself, but the bag of human blood that he was attached to. Thus far he had been spared the scent of it, but he was increasingly uncertain that he would be able to avoid it.

"So, Eugene," Rapunzel began, tone testy, "care to explain?"

The brown-haired fellow called Eugene (a remarkably tame name, considering his roguish appearance) appeared indignant. Gesturing wildly towards the white-haired boy, he exclaimed, "He's a vampire!"

" _You're_ a vampire!"

"Yes, but I'm not going to kill you!"

Pointing at Jack – "He's not going to kill me! He's my patient!"

"Patient?" He peered at Jack with suspiciously. "Since when do vampires need treatment?"

"Since they get stabbed by wooden stakes," was the white-haired lad's cold reply, hand going unconsciously towards his bandaged chest. The wounds were rather tender and he wonder if he was still bleeding.

"Stabbed?"

"Van Helsing guy." Noting Eugene's expression of alarm, he added, "Don't worry. He's dead."

"Uh-huh." The other vampire sipped from his cup with a distrustful mien.

"Well," Rapunzel chimed in more pleasantly, though shooting a disapproving look towards the brunette man. "On behalf of my overprotective husband, I apologise, Jack. He's usually not this level of stupid."

"Blondie, that's not very nice."

"It's true, isn't it?"

Jack didn't really hear the rest of that banter, because his mind honed down to only one word - _husband._

A _vampire_ and a _non-vampire_. For real?

"You-" he turned from the blonde woman to the brunette fellow sitting across from him "-and him – married?"

Rapunzel eyed him warily. "Yes…"

But, from everything he had ever learned about vampires, that couldn't _possibly_ work. Well, it could, but it would be deeply unpleasant for one party at least. "How?"

"Well," Eugene cut in dryly, "there was a priest, and there was a crowd, and I wore a suit and she wore this dress with a veil and-"

"Eugene," Rapunzel said chidingly, but there was a slightly anxious tone at the base of it as well.

"-and we kissed, had cake. There was fireworks, I think. Also, our ring-bearers were covered in tar and feathers. I still don't know why." He frowned, scratching his goatee. He then noticed his wife glaring at him. "What?"

"Let's not talk about this now," she said with a note of finality, which told Jack that this was a matter that she had no intention of discussing in front of him. He wondered that whether it was related to the curse-thingy she had mentioned earlier. "So-" Rapunzel clapped her hands together "-who wants cookies?"

They moved to the dining room, because that room didn't look like the set of a disaster movie. Rapunzel served more of her cookie to them, once again presenting the different flavours with pride. Both vampires accepted the offerings, even though they added very little to their nutritional value. They set at opposite ends of the rectangular table, staring at one another.

After a long silence, both decided to speak at the same time, "So-" and then simultaneously cleared their throats in awkwardness.

"You go first," Jack offered.

"No, it's alright." The man waved carelessly at him. "You can."

"Well, I don't actually have anything to say." He scratched his scalp nervously. "It's just been ages since I've met a vampire that wasn't part of my family. Erm,-" noting Eugene's puzzled expression "-coven."

"Uh-huh." The older vampire seemed contemplative about the term he used. "Well, same here. Only that I don't have a coven. Or family."

"Oh." That was odd. It wasn't unheard of for vampires to go travelling or even living alone, but all vampires usually at some point or another were taken under a coven. If they didn't, they'd probably have been killed by hunters or other creatures that they offended within a century. If Rapunzel was five hundred years old, it was likely that her 'husband' – he still not sure if he believes that yet – was either her age or older, so he wasn't just some newly-turned rookie.

As an answer, Eugene shrugged. "It's a long story, and honestly, most of it isn't even mine." He glanced briefly towards the kitchen, where his wife had disappeared to get another pot. He then swung himself back to face Jack, eyeing him critically. "Never knew that there was a coven living so nearby. Otherwise, we wouldn't have moved here."

Covens was the stiffer, more formal term for the clusters that vampires would live in. Different covens that obeyed Council authority were usually polite enough not to encroach upon the territories of others. After all, human flocks had to be preserved and reared before feeding, and most vampires preferred their prey not to know they were being hunted. The lesser the numbers of vampires around, the less likely they'd be detected.

The Guardians' reasons for living apart from other vampires was a lot simpler though – they didn't get along with human blood drinkers. From Rapunzel's surprise earlier when he declared his diet, Jack doubted that her husband was bound by the ethic of animal blood consumption.

"So it's just you two, then?" the boy asked as a subtle probe. He wanted to know if there'd be other gun-wielding lunatics marching through the doorway. A guy had a limit to the number of times he could get shot at in a day, after all.

"More or less. We sometimes have company, but-" he let out a wry chuckle "-we usually outlive them." Eugene tapped the side of his tea cup, playing the end of the tea bag. "I get over it, but Rapunzel's quite a people-person. She gets attached to all these mortals and then when they die, well…" he trailed off. It was then suddenly Jack could sense the wealth of his age, the truth of what he had seen and he had experienced.

Eugene set his emptied cup down on the saucer, eyes piercing into Jack. "'Might be nice if she could have friends that lived as long as she – we do."

Incredulity was scribbled all over Jack's face.

"We don't know you well enough, true, but you seem a decent fellow," Eugene admitted, before his tone turning more antagonistic. "Of course, you hurt her in anyway, I'll destroy you. We have silver ammunition for a reason." He flashed a cocky grin. "My idea, of course."

"Of course," Jack agreed. He didn't think a nice lady like the doctor would be the one to come up with carrying silver-loaded bullets. He took another cookie, munching into it. "Could I ask you a question?"

Eugene appeared amused. "Is that the question?"

"Har har." The boy rolled his eyes. His ex-attacker sure had a weird sense of humour. "No, actually. What I wanted to ask was actually if you had ever, well,-" a part of him was starting to regret bringing up this topic, just in case Eugene decided to punch silver into his chest, but he was curious "-I don't know how to phrase it – _try to drink your wife's blood_?"

The cup in Eugene's hand abruptly exploded. Hot tea came sizzling between his undamaged fingers and the remaining ceramic piece were crushed to dust as his hand turned into a fist. His brown eyes suddenly seemed to catch a glow that Jack had not seen for decades – a glow distinct to vampires that drank human blood. Which was almost all vampires, incidentally.

"Okay, maybe let's talk about something else," Jack hurriedly changed the subject. He reckoned that the other man might be less keen on him being friends with his wife – if that ever happened. He glanced anxiously out of the window. Was Hiccup ever going to come for him?

"Right." The glow in his companion's eyes had faded and he was now gazing at the shattered mug with much regret. "Sorry about that. Just that, you know, diets are sensitive stuff amongst people like us."

"Yes." Jack nodded. He had first hand experience on the topic. Diet was the very core of a vampire's identity. The problem was that identity could be come an excuse for carnage – a license that too many vampires had been happy to exploit.

Eugene must have guessed what he was thinking, for he hastened to add, "Anyway, I have a fairly safe and sustainable way of getting my share of meals around here. Rapunzel helped me develop it."

"Oh?" He found it a little ironic that a doctor – especially one as sweet as Dr. Fitzherbert – would be the one to help her husband in his, ahem, _feeding habits,_ which usually consisted murder. Not sure that was part of the Hippocratic oath.

Once again, it seemed that the brunette man had worked out his train of thought. "Hey! I'm serious about the 'safe' part. No one gets hurt in the process."

"Really?" Jack leaned forward, sceptical. Why wouldn't he be? "How?"

The man opened his mouth to speak, only to close it abruptly. It was then the white-haired realised that this was something that was not supposed to be shared with him.

Much like the details of his wife's 'curse'.

"I need to clean this up," Eugene said at last, nodding to the shattered remains of his mug and the tea dripping onto the floor. Jerking his chin to the cookies, he told Jack, "Help yourself."

With that, Eugene disappeared out of the dining room, leaving Jack to brood on his own.

All his undead life, the white-haired lad had been told that it was impossible for a vampire to mate with a human. One with simply physiology, since humans were alive and vampire were not quite dead, but certainly not alive either. The second was because of aging – a vampire would always outlive the spouse, much like North outlived his wife all those years ago.

And last, but not least, diet. Diet was indeed a very sensitive topic for vampires, it seemed.

Perhaps Tooth and Bunny were right after all. Perhaps it was vampires were truly not meant to form long-terms relationships with the beings that could easily turn into a snack.

He hoped Hiccup would arrive soon. This house was starting get to him in a bad way.

~~~0~~~

It was three weeks after the beginning of the 19th century, and he spent the afternoon burying the corpse of a murdered girl.

Correction. A girl that _he_ murdered. Sure she was already dying, but he killed her, just because he couldn't contain his thirst for blood.

He was truly a despicable being. If Tooth and North knew about what he had done, well, they wouldn't throw him out. They were too kind for that. But they would be very disappointed, and for some reason he feared that more than their wrath.

So like he had done for his sister, he covered up. He deceived.

Nightfall came and Jack was trying to make tea the way Tooth had always done. His hands were shaking as he lifted the heavy pot from the stove and over to the cup with the leaves. Every now and then, his gaze would flick back to the kitchen table, where the scent of blood was still palatable, though now going stale. He had taken quite a while to clean it, for each inhale of the iron-tasting substance threatened to drive him to frenzied hunger once again. He knew technically he was starving – he had just fed, after all, and on hot, fresh blood too – but his instinct rebelled against his sensibilities, much like that the way it rebelled against his conscience.

He poured the steaming liquid into the cup, splattering some onto the saucer in his clumsiness. He let a snarl in anger and clenched his fist the metal handle, denting the smooth handle. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

He set the pot down on the stove. Rubbing his forehead, he peered out of the window, into the darkness. Part of him longed for his two housemates to return and fill the void of silence, with their tampered but kindly conversation. But another part of him hoped that their return would be delayed, just in case they two caught the scent of human blood in the air and discovered his crime.

To be honest, he didn't know what he was going to do when they did return. Should he tell the truth – that he had broken faith with them by disregarding their principles? No, he couldn't. He would take these secrets and burying them down with him, the way he had buried the girl.

That poor girl.

He was truly a monster.

It was then he heard movement coming from outside of the cottage – like the clambering of feet against the grass, followed by the whinnying of a horse. Pouring the hot water over the coals instead, he brushed down his shirt and pants, checking for any bloodstains as he headed towards the door. He felt his breaths quickening as he pulled open it and went out onto the porch.

There was no one there, save the horse. The beast was grand looking creature, tall and muscular, with a mighty black mane that matched its dark hide. It was saddled and reined, but had no rider. Puzzled, Jack moved towards the creature and was surprised by how calm the horse was. It watched him with its dark eyes, but showed no signs of aggression.

It was then that Jack noticed the small pouch attached to its saddle. Thinking that it might lend some clue to the owner's identity, he opened it up to find a small note, much like that he had found in the drawing room in the afternoon. Being unfamiliar with many of the words, it took him a while to make them ou

 _Sergei will take you there, if you're willing. I hope you're dressed for the occasion._

He twisted his head towards the horse. Cautious, Jack said, "Sergei?"

The horse neighed in confirmation.

The boy lowered his head to finish reading the note.

 _When you arrive, show the guards the seal at the end of the note. They will bring you to me._

 _Your obedient servant,_

 _Pitch Black_

So finally, the mysterious pale gentleman that he had met on the docks had a name, though the name itself only added further to the mystery. Jack examined the seal at the end of the note, which itself was made of black wax. The circular insignia depicted a horse, not unlike Sergei, and a spectre with a skull head on its top end. He was starting to wonder if this gentleman was truly a member of the gentry.

Jack glanced at the cottage behind him. The two had left him in charge of the place, but they wouldn't mind his left it for a few hours. Anyway, all the hinting and prodding from this 'Pitch Black' fellow made him wonder if there was a good deal that Tooth and North had been keeping from him.

There was only one way to find out.

He climbed onto the horse and settled himself on the saddle. Taking up the reins, he kicked the horse with the back his heel. "Hiya!"

Sergei whinnied, kicking his hooves back into the dirt before plunging them both into the darkness.

Jack never considered himself much of a rider, and when he let the horse canter against the warm wind, into the jungle, he decided firmly that he probably never was going to be. With the trees and overgrowth above, he only saw flashes of leaves and heard briefly the chirping off retreating creatures. It was almost as if the animals of the wilds knew that a _nosferatu_ was passing through and avoided it.

Sergei was no ordinary beast, it seemed, by how quickly it swung past the trees and over the streams. After a while, Jack realised that that the greenery had disappeared, replaced by the deep orange of sandstone. He glanced around him while gripping the reins at the large stone formations illuminated in the moonlight. They had entered a canyon.

When he looked forward, he realised that the rough walls had now gained the touch of man, in the form of wall of elaborate wall paintings. Many of the paintings seemed to be drawn in a sequential clusters, with each cluster telling a story. One of the paintings which depicted a group of elegantly dressed individuals commencing a toast while trampling over mountains of bloodied corpses. Another showed the image of a dark figure surrounded by soldiers pointing their spears at him. The central figure however warded his encroaching foes off by releasing a colony of bats from under his cloak, which clawed out the eyes of the screaming soldiers.

It was all very graphic. He decided to keep his eyes forward instead.

Sergei finally brought him to the end of the canyon, where there was a massive palace carved into stone. It had large windows, giant columns and larger-than-life statues, all carved around the arched doorway. Sergei leapt up the stone steps, taking him past the granite lions and the marble pillars, galloping through the doorway and into a large courtyard littered with more statues chiselled of various stones. He was taken around a fountain before the horse finally slowed its pace, stopping him before yet another set of steps. There, he saw two gnarled, hideous creatures on guard, both wearing armour but bearing no weapons. They were the strangest things he had ever seen, with dark green hides, yellow eyes and long fangs. If they weren't dressed he would have assumed them to be beasts. As Jack dismounted from Sergei, they approached, speaking to him in a guttural tongue that he didn't understand.

"Um," the boy fumbled for a bit, before showing the two hideous beings the seal on the note. They squinted at the seal, before conversing to one another in the guttural speech. One of them waved his thick, talon laced hand towards him, asking him to follow.

He was led by the gnarled creature up the steps towards the giant stone castle. There he was greeted by grand hall which ceiling seemed to stretch on to eternity before being pointed up to a long winding flight of steps. He ascended, and he saw that it was guarded by several more hideous armoured creatures standing at a crooked attention. He wrapped his arms around himself as he continued on the path, trying to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor.

As he climbed, he heard a muffled echoing bouncing off the wall. It grew clearer the higher he climbed.

"-evidence do you have?" a clear, feminine voice rang out.

"I have conducted a study of my hypothesis on myself," a male one now declared. Yet another gigantic hall in came insight as he climbed, one which the staircase apparently near to. Unlike the vaulted hall, this was circular in shape. He could see throngs and throngs of people seated on near the ground concave seats carved from stone, much like a stadium. Above them on another floor was a gallery running along the circumference of the hall. There several individuals were seated between columns, leaning forward in rapt attention.

In the centre of the hall stood three tall pillars that widened up into platforms. On one of the platforms sat a young woman with dressed in a shimmering emerald dress. Jack had to admit that she was possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, even if her expression was locked into a disturbed frown.

Across her on another platform stood a tall muscular figure. Only the lower of half of his tanned body was covered with woven cloth, while the upper half was covered almost completely in tattoos. He reminded Jack of the Indians that he had seen back in the Americas.

He was the one who was speaking now to the listening crowd. "The study lasted six months and from it, it has been quite conclusive that the mixing of animal blood with human food has been effective in starving off thirst-" this earned some murmuring from the crowd below, making the speaker raise his voice "-and provide sufficient nutrition."

The uproar broke up out in the hall just as Jack entered a small chamber that looked over the hall. It must have been one of the upper gallery rooms he had seen earlier. Outside stood two of the armoured, gnarled beasts that marched up in front of him, as if poised for attack. Before they could do anything, however, a voice wafted in from within the chamber, "Let him in."

The hideous guards then retreated and Jack hurried in, starting feel a little overwhelmed by it all.

Near the arched window that overlooked the circular hall sat the pale gentleman, who was dressed this time in a black robe instead of his black coat. His bony hands still rested on the long cane, and his head was turned towards Jack. "Welcome, my boy. Won't you sit?"

Jack noticed a curved bench near the window, so he sat there. This gave him a very good view over the hall, where the people on the platform were still speaking.

"Who are these people?" he asked the man who had invited him here. "What's this place?"

"Your kinsmen," Mr. Black – he didn't know how else to think of him – answered. "And this is the Necropolis, City of the Dead. The very heart of the vampire community."

The vampire _community_? He peered down to the masses gathered below. There had to be hundreds – thousands there. He had known there were other vampires, but not _this_ many. All these people could easily start a city on its own – maybe two or three, even!

A chill ran down his back. If all these were vampires, then how humans had died to quench their thirst? That was a calculation he did not want to make.

"As compelling as your claims are, Bunnymund," the beautiful black-haired woman spoke over the muttering of the crowds, "a study conducted on one vampire over the course of six months is hardly a way to make a conclusive argument." This was met by _'hear, hears!'_ from the crowds.

"Then give me the means to conduct a proper one," the tattooed man, who must be Bunnymund, urged. "Let me gather a team of volunteers who would experiment with me."

Turning to Mr. Black, the white-haired boy inquired, "What's going on?"

"Politics." The pale gentleman gave a distasteful sniff. "A sad inheritance from our human selves."

"What are they talking about?"

A lopsided smile appeared on his grey countenance. "Feeding. What else?"

"Why do we even need this?" someone from the gallery seats shouted, causing both the pale gentleman and the white-haired boy to turn their attentions to the going-ons of the great hall. "This is a waste of time!"

"I'm sorry." Bunnymund spun around to face his opponent, voice dripping sarcasm. "I wasn't aware that immortality has made you rather short of time."

"Our immortal lives are meant for purposes other than foolish, fruitless experiments," another, also sitting along the gallery, called out, full of disgust and anger. "How dare you bring up such a foolish proposal in a session like this!" This gained a flurry of approval from those seated around him.

"How dare I?" the tattooed vampire on the platform was glowering. "How dare you, and vampires like you, indulge in the careless spillage of blood and pretend that it's all just part of your 'nature'!" This sparked yet another commotion that had the lady, who was undoubtedly the mediator of the discussion, to call for order.

"Who are they?" Jack jerked his head to those in the gallery seats, who were looking distinctly disgruntled.

"The council," his companion explained. "Rulers of the vampire community. They form the laws that govern the masses."

"Laws?" That notion puzzled him. With uninhibited bloodlust and sadistic violence set at the core of vampire bevaiour, 'laws' seemed like a laughable notion.

Mr. Black seemed to agree with this, for he muttered then, "They're meant more as guidelines then actual laws."

Jack nodded, before facing the grand hall once again.

"Obtaining the resources of your experiment, Bunnymund," the mediator on the platform was saying then, now that the crowds had quietened, "would require the participants of the experiment to be living in close proximity to humans. Resisting feeding on humans would be difficult to the point of suffering, and should anyone in the team mistakenly reveal themselves, they put all the participants at stake."

"I assure you that the participants need not live to close to human proximity," the one called Bunnymund insisted – boy what, a strange name. "Even if they did, however, this diet change will allow better control over feeding urges."

"Strong claims," the lovely woman remarked in a deadly cold voice, "but again, we have no assurance that what you say is true." There were those on the council seats that crowed their agreement. "We will need to discuss in depth before we can give you an answer, Ealdun Aster Bunnymund. Till then, this session is adjourned."

The tattooed man did not seem happy with this answer, but the woman, who was undoubtedly the one in power here, had spoken and individuals on balcony seats began to leave. Below them, the crowds had risen from their seats and began to move their separate ways.

"Come." Mr. Black was calling for him now. "Shall we take a walk around here?"

As they descended from the chamber, Jack jerked his head towards the gnarled, hideous guards. "What are they?"

"Goblins. We defeated them in a war a thousand years ago, and since then they have been bound in service to this castle," explained the man with careless air. Jack's mouth fell open. How long exactly have vampires been around? By the way Mr. Black spoke, it sounded as if he himself had been present in the war. But that meant …wow. He was starting to feel that he might be the youngest amongst all these vampires. "Come, my boy. Perhaps you would like meet some of your kin."

Well-aware that he would lost without the robed man, Jack followed him.

The route was different from the one that he had arrived at, leading them to the gallery where the council members had been sitting. As the two of them went past, Jack took in the vampires around him. Their skins were of various shades and eyes were of many colours. Garments varied from robes to robes to tunics, made of cloths and motifs he had never seen. These richly dressed individuals all had their eyes on them as they walked through the columned aisle, making the boy feel rather uncomfortable. He noted that some of the people would bow to Mr. Black, which he responded to with a small nod, while others would glare hatefully at him. Jack swallowed. The tension here was as thick as a winter's fog, and knowing now that he was surrounded by vampires didn't make it any better.

Mr. Black led them what appeared to be a private chamber. A series of robed young handmaidens – or at least, they looked young – flanked them, hands over their laps and expressions docile. In the centre of chamber was a large luxurious throne, made of gilded gold and cast to look like a reclining willow tree. On it sat the beautiful lady that Jack had seen speaking on the platform earlier. She appeared to have been reading a scroll when they arrived and only raised her head when they stopped before her.

Now Jack could see that her dark hair was adorned with a wreath woven from lilacs. Leaves and vines were also streamed through her luscious black locks, making it look like a waterfall of greenery. When she stood to her feet, her robes, threaded with leaves and flowers, swept around her shapely form.

"Your highness," Mr. Black greeted her, moving his cane out of the way as he bowed. Jack quickly followed suit, alarm bells ringing in his head. Royalty amongst vampires? That was new notion.

The woman's own response was however what surprised him even more. Her pale, slender hands lifted her long, flowing river of gown as she curtseyed at the pale gentleman. "Your majesty."

Jack gawked at his companion, who was just smiling faintly. Mr. Black was _royalty? What was going on here?_

It was then this beautiful lady noticed his presence. "Who's this? Another one victim to your greed, Father?"

 _Father?_

"Just a young acquaintance I've made, my dear." He shot a wry smile towards Jack. "It grieves me that to be judged so harshly by my own daughter."

"My judgment is perfectly valid with your history," the lady snapped, before her emerald eyes darted to him. "What's your name?"

So enraptured was he by her grace and splendor that it took several seconds before her question was registered in his brain. Swallowing, he answered, "Jack, m'am. Jack Frost."

"Hmm." She glanced him over while rolling her scroll up. She held out her hand to him. "Princess Emily Jane."

He stared at her in confusion for a moment, wondering if he should shake the hand or kiss it. Eventually he opted for shaking it firmly. Apparently, that wasn't the right move, for the princess raised a brow at him, then glanced towards her father. "Where did you pick up this one?"

"Calcutta," Mr. Black answered smoothly, smiling widely for some reason. "Teeming with British this time of the century."

"Indeed," Emily Jane said in a scornful tone as she handed the scroll to her handmaiden. Assessing the boy, she finally suggested, "Why don't you walk with me?"

"Oh, erm, sure."

As she led him away, Mr. Black made a move to follow. But Emily Jane halted him. "Not you," she said with a disdainful look. "I'm still not happy with you."

"Your wish is my command," was Mr. Black's mild reply, complete with a florid bow. For father and daughter, they didn't look or act like they were related.

The lady in the flowing robes led him into a garden, lush with life that should be impossible given the lack of sunlight. There was a marble fountain in the centre, twisting into the shape of a pine tree. Water sprung out from the tips of its branches.

"What do you think of it?"

Jack snapped out of his fascination. "Oh, erm. It's very pretty." He paused, then remembered. "Your majesty."

"Your highness," she corrected primly, lifting her skirts before sitting along the rim of the fountain. "I had chosen the title of princess, unlike my arrogant father."

"Oh, I see." He didn't see, actually. He had no idea what was going on, or what vampire royalty was for, or why Emily Jane didn't like Mr. Black – besides him being as terrifying as All Hallows Eve. It was all awfully confusing.

"Sit." She gestured to the spot next to her. He scrambled forward to obey, fidgeting awkwardly with hands and not quite sure where to put them. The princess didn't comment on his uneasiness, reaching out to an overhanging branch of a tree and removing its fruit. She held one up to him. "Apple?"

A wave of revulsion swept over him. Having filled himself with blood, the mere thought of returning to human food nauseated him. He shook his head.

"Hmm." She considered him carefully, before taking a bite from the apple. As she chewed, she continued gazing at him in a sidelong fashion. "I understand, I suppose. I used to love apples back when I was human." Her slender fingers curled around the plump, shiny skin. Her eyes narrowed to slits "Of course, I used to be able to love back when I was human too."

Jack blinked.

"You're so young. I can't remember how that felt." She sighed, shaking her head. "There's so little you know." She flung the half-eaten apple away, clearly not caring where it landed. "The longer a vampire lives, the less human he or she becomes. Killing becomes a habit. Violence becomes a joy. Love becomes-" a sneer scrunches up her lovely countenance "-impossible."

"You see," she told him, folding her viridescent sleeves up, "my father did love once. He was the one who was turned first, so protect my mother and I, he stayed away. After my mother was killed by raiders and I was captured, he returned to avenge her and save me. I like to think he still loved us then." She sniffed contemptuously. "He came with chariots and spears, with legions behind him – cursed, like himself, and filled with bloodlust. They wiped out more than ten thousand humans that day. At the point of time, I was so full of admiration and awe that I allowed him to turn me." Her lips curled down bitterly. "It was for my own protection, he had told me then, but I realise now that it was out of selfishness. He had become a god, but he had no one to share his time with."

"I've learned to despised him, of course," Emily Jane said in an almost casual manner, as if she was merely describing the weather. "No father who truly loved his child would turn her into a monster. And don't let him deceive you," she spoke with greater earnestness, looking at Jack straight in the eye. "He will try to convince you to join him – himself and his followers. Here, we call them the supremacists. They believe that vampires should rule the world, not hide from it."

Things that Mr. Black had said to him were starting to make sense now; how he scoffed humans, how he treated Jack like a long lost relative and called him a kinsman, how he felt that vampires _deserved_ to slaughter and maim humans.

"And you, your highness?" Jack asked her, unable to hold back his curiosity. "Are you with him?"

"After suffering centuries by his side? _Ha!_ " She let out a spiteful laugh. "Never again. You must understand that amongst vampires, we are very much divided when it comes to the method of feeding. Diet is a-" the princess paused to find a suitable adjective "-sensitive subject, after all. Were you at the session earlier?"

He nodded.

"Well, the speaker, Bunnymund – he's one of the pacifists. They are a small group, but quite vocal. They promote feeding on animal blood and living with humans as a method to preserve one's humanity." Jack's eyes widened in recognition, but her gaze was on the fountain then and did not see. "Their determination is admirable, but their cause is foolish. Very little of their ideas actually work in the long-run. At the beginning of their movement, they had many followers. Now, the numbers have dwindled to but a handful." Her sigh was full of sympathy, but dismissal as well. "A pity. They mean well."

"Then where do you stand?" the white-haired lad asked, though he was still trying to wrap his head around this revelation. Were North and Tooth part of these 'pacifists', or was that merely a coincidence?

"I prefer to stay neutral, like the majority. They elected me as their leader, and I've been so for the last six centuries." Emily Jane must have felt a need to justify herself, for she quickly added, "We kill to feed, and some take more pleasure in it than others, but only what we need. We only want to live out our immortal lives happily, nothing more."

"I see."

"That is the way of nature, Jack. To live and let live, but also eat or be eaten. We must do what we need to survive." She lifted her hand towards him. "Walk with me, Jack. I will show you the city, and perhaps you can tell what the human world has been up to."

~~~0~~~~

 _Blood Custard Pudding Recipe (not Blood Pudding) (by Sandy)_

 _What you need:_

 _4 tablespoons of Sugar_

 _1 tablespoon of Water_

 _2 tablespoons of Hot Water_

 _2 Chicken Eggs_

 _2/3 cups of Milk_

 _1/3 cups of Pork Blood_

 _5 tablespoons of Sugar_

 _4 Plastic cups_

 _Butter_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1\. Coat the inner surface of the cups with butter_

 _2\. Add sugar and water to a pot and raise to low heat. Swirl sugar around until browns._

 _3\. Add more hot water. Swirl brown liquid in pot. This is caramel._

 _4\. Distribute caramel into the custard cups._

 _5\. In a new pot, add milk, blood and sugar. Bring to boil and stir till sugar is dissolved._

 _6\. Separate two eggs into a separate mixing bowl._

 _7\. Whisk eggs into a mixture, but gently as not form foam. Pour hot blood mixture in at the same time_

 _8\. Sieve the mixture into another bowl, removing any foam or solid blood bits with spoon._

 _9\. Pour mixture into custard cups._

 _10\. Steam the custard cups for 30 minutes. Remove cups and refrigerate._

 _11\. Serve by overturning cups onto a plate._

~~~0~~~~

" _Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"_

"Please-" Hiccup shifted uncomfortably under his ferocious embrace "-let go of me. You're crumpling the suit."

"Okay, okay." Jack quickly retracted his arms. He knew that the other boy was already doing him a huge favour and the last thing he wanted was to annoy him, lest he change his mind. "But yeah, thanks."

"I'd tell you 'no problem', but that's not true." Hiccup smoothened out his shirt and his coat, muttering something to himself. He then waved his friend over. "C'mon, this way."

They removed themselves from the porch of the Fitzherbert house, which Jack had been all too glad to be extracted from them. Rapunzel was alright, but she was clearly hiding something. As for Eugene, well… Jack only trusted another vampire as far as he could throw him.

"Where did you park your car?" Jack asked as they moved from the moonlit road into the nearby forest. Like Burgess, Corona was built in the middle of a hilly forest, but just a bit bigger in an area and population.

"I didn't drive here."

The white-haired boy halted his steps. "What?"

"It'd be too slow." Even under the shadows of the pines, he could see the wicked grin on his friend's face.

Suspicious, he questioned, "Why exactly are we in the forest?"

The grin widened. "Because our ride is would be too conspicuous otherwise."

Jack's stomach lurched as the truth dawned on him.

Apparently, he hit the nail on the head, because right then, a giant black reptile came leaping out of the bushes. The first thing it did was to land in front of the vampire, part its jaws and let out a piercing shriek. Jack yelled as he covered his hyper-sensitive ears, feeling his head spin even after the dragon had ceased its growling. He could detect Hiccup guffawing at his expense, but it was muffled.

"Did you really have to bring that creature?" he groaned.

He could see Hiccup's lips moving, but he couldn't make out the words.

"What?"

He saw Hiccup repeat himself, but still had no idea what he was saying.

"WHAT?"

Hiccup just stared at him, before letting a long sigh and waving him to the saddle on the back of the dragon. The big black monster, whom by nature of his heritage never liked vampires and never will, let out a snarl at Jack – not that the boy could hear it.

"Yeah, yeah." The white-haired boy rolled his eyes as he followed Hiccup onto the dragon. "Well, I think you're a waste of oxygen too."

Five minutes later –

" _AHHHHHHHHH!"_

"Bad Toothless! No!"

" _AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

"You shouldn't have called him names!" Hiccup hollered at him, before turning back to face the front. "Toothless! Behave yourself!"

"I'm going to die!"

"You can't. You're immortal."

"Tell the Guardians I'm sorry!"

"Still not going to talk to vampires."

"Flight is unnatural for human beings!"

"Which is great, because neither of us really are humans."

" _AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!_ He's doing a loop! Why's he doing a loop?Why? _Why?"_

"Try not to agitate him so much, will you?" Hiccup murmured to the Night Fury. It only snorted and narrowed its eyes.

One hour later –

"Oh, sweet land!" Jack threw himself on the ground and kissed it with great fervour.

"You are such a drama queen."' Hiccup rolled his eyes when he dismounted the ebony beast. The Night Fury also rolled its eyes, which made Jack wonder whether boy and dragon were symbiotically-linked.

Picking himself off the ground, the white-haired lad dusted his clothes and realised that he wasn't anywhere near his home, but in some kind of park. Not far away, there was a tall, flashy building with French words on top of it.

Spinning sharply to Hiccup, he demanded, "What is this place?"

"If you read the invitation card I sent you, you'd know," was the other boy's careless answer.

"But-but," Jack stuttered, clutching helpless at the pocket of his pants that should have had a phone, but didn't. "I need to get home!"

"And I need to get back to my own wedding anniversary!" Hiccup began a brisk walk back to the hotel, not giving a second glance. "If you can't wait, you can walk home yourself. It's less than a mile from here, I promise."

As he watched Hiccup disappear down the path of the park, towards the doors of the fancy hotel, he groaned. The dragon by his side let out a gurgling sound that was very much like a laugh.

Jack glared at it. "Shut up."

The dragon's eyes seemed to say, ' _Make me.'_

Jack was tempted, but decided that it would be unwise to provoke the beast. Hiccup was good friends with him, but between himself and the dragon, he would choose the dragon.

Sighing, he began to his walk, using the stars above as his guide.

~~~0~~~

"Boiled water and dried leaves?"

"Yes, your highness."

"And they drink it?" Emily Jane sounded incredulous. "And this is fashionable?"

"Yes, your highness."

"Humans are strange."

Jack chuckled at her expression. "True, yes."

They were going through what appeared to be some kind of market in a large open courtyard, still all under a stone sky. Vampires from all nations were moving from stall to stall, much the way normal people did, but speaking in languages he didn't understand – languages, the princess had explained to him, that humans didn't speak anymore. The only reason people like her father and herself could speak a version of English that he understood was because they had subordinates bring them writings by humans of his time.

The people jammed between the stone buildings that made the town square examined each other's wares, made offers and struck bargains. It was a very human-like procedure, except that the materials exchanged were largely non-perishables, like books, ornaments, clothes and paintings. For obvious reasons, food was not bartered here.

At least, that was what he thought, until he noticed the auction.

Craning his neck up, Jack noticed the stage in the middle of the market, where the auctioneers was speaking to a watching crowd while gesturing to a girl in shackles. The girl had a fair complexion, with rosy cheeks and dark brown hair. If it wasn't her hopelessness in her eyes, she would have looked like an angel. Behind her, Jack could see several young men and women, all shackled as the girl in front was, with goblin guards standing behind them. All of them were clearly of different ethnic origins and draped in different garments, making it clear that they were all from different places around the world. Most of them had their heads hung low, with dejected expressions.

"Brides."

He turned towards the princess. "What?"

"Brides," she repeated, thinking that he hadn't heard the first time. "It's just a general term for both males and females that are chosen to be mates for vampires. Merchants bring the finest specimens from all over the world and sell them to the highest bidders."

Jack swallowed, unable to hide his disgust as he looked back at the stage. The auctioneer was taking bids, shouting and pointing at those with raised cards. The girl on the stage just stood motionless as her fate was decided. Eventually, a man in an ornate oriental tunic won, though the payment was unclear to Jack. By her shackles, the girl was led off the stage by the auctioneer's assistants, who handed them off to the vampire.

Trembling, he turned to Emily Jane. "What will happen to her?"

"He might turn her and marry her, as some have." She shrugged. "Or he might not turn her and just use her assets as long as he lives. Or he might just drink her dry. It's really up to the vampire."

He felt sick. This was slavery, except that in human slavery, having one's blood drained out of them was usually not expected. He cast a furtive glance to his regal companion. She just gazed at the scene with pure indifference, and for the first time since he had entered her company, Jack felt genuine dislike for the vampire princess.

It must have shown on his face, for she said then, as in defense, "Immortality is a very lonely disease, Jack."

He tried not to look her in the eye, not to look at her lovely face and let himself be deceived in thinking that there was beauty within that matched it. "So," he said stiffly, "you've had any 'brides' of your own, your highness?"

"My father has thrown many handsome young men my way in attempt to return to my good graces," was her nonchalant answer as she steered him not so subtly away from the auction stage. "Some were more pleasing than others."

"Of course," he muttered. Now her remarks when she saw him with Mr. Black made sense. In fact, he was starting to guess that that might be the reason that Mr. Black had introduced him to his daughter after all. Why on Earth had he thought it a good idea to read and obey notes from a stranger that he had known to be a murderer?

Because Jack knew that he probably wasn't very much better than them. He may not have bought a poor human girl off the auction, but he had killed people. Women. Children.

Maybe the princess did have a point. Was it so wicked to kill out of need?

"Jack?" A familiar voice rang out through the crowd. "Is that – Jack! It is you!" Tooth's face suddenly appeared before him, astounded at the sight of him. She seemed like she would have embraced him, no questions asked, if she had not seen his companion. All her surprise transformed into hatred. _"You."_

"Toothiana," was the princess' cold greeting. "How nice to see you here."

"Get away from him, you witch." Tooth didn't bother with putting on airs, immediately stepping in front of Jack, using her body to separate him from Emily Jane. "I won't let you hurt him."

"It's quite alright, Tooth." Jack tried gently to intervene. He might have lost some of his awe for the princess, but with how fiercely Tooth's eyes glittered, he feared that she might cause a scene. "She's just showing me around the city and telling me about the vampires here." _Which you and North had never even so much as mentioned_ , he added bitterly in his mind.

The girl did not heed him, just glaring haughtily at Emily Jane, as if she herself were a vampire princess. In fact, Jack wouldn't be surprise if she was.

"You're not doing your associates any favours by offending me, Toothiana." Emily Jane shook her long dark locks back, raising a reprimanding finger. "You know that the council holds my word with high regard, and they will not forward E. Aster Bunnymund's proposal if I say so."

Tooth glowered, but had no response. So his guess was right after all – North and Tooth were associated with the pacifistic vampires. That explained their practices – and also why they didn't understand him. "Come on, Jack," she said at last, reaching for his hand. "Let's go."

He let her pull him away, but his heart had a great deal of reluctance. He didn't know why, because he certainly did not want to stay with the princess any longer. Her cool nonchalance was as disturbing as her father's vindictive violence.

But Tooth and North, people whom he had trusted with his vulnerabilities, had been deliberately hiding all this from him: the city of vampires, the culture and history of his kind, the schools of thought about feeding. Why had they not told him? Didn't they trust him?

Or did they keep him in the dark to further their own agendas?

"In here." Tooth dragged him into one of the small stone building. It was a small out of the way place lit up by a few glowing stones. In the centre of it was a hexagonal table, and around it sat two figures. One, Jack recognised, to be Bunnymund, and the other was –

"North!" He smiled. He couldn't really be upset to see his dearest friend.

"Jack?" The large man glanced from him to Tooth. "What is he doing here?"

"Who's this?" the tattooed man put in at the same time. "Another street urchin you've adopted, North?"

Jack frowned. He didn't like the scornful look on Bunnymund's face, and by his tone, Bunnymund didn't think very much of him either.

"Ealdun, this is the boy I wrote about," Tooth said, appearing displeased with her half-naked associate. "Jack Frost, remember?"

"Jack Frost," Bunnymund murmured. He had a cup of something in his hand – probably tea, if brewed by Tooth. He swirled the liquid about a few times. "Fits the hair, I suppose. That, and he's as skinny as a twig."

"Hey!" The boy folded his arms crossly. "At least I'm not named after a rabbit."

"A rabbit?" The tattooed man seemed perplexed. "What rabbit?"

The whole room fell into perplexed silence. Eventually, North was the one who got it, and he celebrated his revelation with a hearty guffaw and by thumping Bunnymund hard in the back. The latter hissed upon impact and glared at the big man. The merry chuckler didn't noticed this, and merely chortled, "Oh, you are a bunny, Bunnymund. Hahah! You hop around and have a tail that is busy! Hahahahaha!"

Tooth giggled, though more at North's reaction than anything.

Jack grinned.

Bunnymund frowned. "I fail to see the humour."

"Well, you've have no sense of humour to begin with, or should I say-" North nudged him in the ribs "-you _hare_ no sense of humour." Then he proceeded to laugh at his own joke.

The tattooed man was remained unamused. "You know what? I'm going to look over the proposal to see if there needs to be more changes. The second session will be starting soon, and I'll need to convince her royal highness-" the hate in his tone was palatable "-that it'll actually work. So if you'll excuse me-" Bowing curtly. "-North-" again "-Tooth-" frowning pointedly "-Frost." With that, he departed the small meeting room.

"You'll have to forgive Bunnymund," was Tooth's attempt to excuse her associate's – friend's? – behaviour. "He travels a lot on his own, so he doesn't have much social skills. He's quite alright once you know him better."

Jack sniffed at that. He figured that this Bunny fellow just a sour old grouch.

"Anyway, you still haven't answered – how did you get here?" Tooth pressed him eagerly.

"I was invited by a guy called Pitch Black," he replied.

His two other companions in the meeting room froze at the name. North was the one stuttered out, "Pitch Black? Leader of supremacists? The vampire king?"

It never really struck until then if that Mr. Black was titled like his daughter was, he would be a king in vampire society – whatever that title meant. "Tall thin guy who likes wearing black. Emily Jane's father."

Tooth's face darkened. "That's him alright."

"How did you come to meet him?" It was North's turn to ask questions.

"We met at the docks one night." His voice was quiet. He knew that the two of them would put the pieces together – him taking a night walk and the discovery of the murdered dock-workers - and know that he had kept silent about it. "He sent for me this evening. He wanted to 'enlighten' me."

"Enlighten," Tooth fumed. "More like he would trick you into joining him."

"Like how _you've_ tricked me into joining you?" He knew that he was being unfair. North had been nothing but supportive throughout his early struggling with his gruesome transformation. Tooth had been unconditionally kind to him. But while Mr. Black – Pitch Black had spoken disparagingly of humans and slaughtered a group of them unnecessarily, he had too attempted to buy his friendship with a meal and sympathy. He was brutal, but he knew what Jack wanted and how he felt. And Emily Jane … though her attitude was calculating and cold, her rationality was oddly refreshing. There was no point denying their bloodthirsty nature if it led to their own suffering.

"I killed a person today," he told them quietly. The words came out so easily. There was guilt, of course, but common sense helped to assuage it. He was merely doing what was in his nature - doing what he needed to do in order to survive. "I was hungry."

The two of them looked at each another, then North spoke, gentle, "We all have killed for hunger at some point, Jack. Don't be too hard on yourself."

"That's not the point." He shook his head. He was conflicted – how could he not be? If he confessed this, he risked losing the only friends he had ever known since his dying. He risked roaming the rest of his immortal, undead life alone again. But he couldn't bear living a lie anymore – not when he knew that there were alternatives. "I don't want to drink animal blood anymore, or pretend to like human food. It's tiresome and boring and I hate it."

"Jack-" Tooth started.

But he couldn't stop. "It's starting to eat me from the inside. And it-" he clenched a fist to his chest, to his stomach "-it hurts, sometimes. I know that I'm not actually hungry, but I feel like I am, and the human part of me feels guilty, and the vampire part of me feels crazy, and I don't know what to do, or how to feel, I-" he broke himself off. He wasn't looking at them, but he could feel the horror radiating of them. His friends must think him a monster, but at least it was the truth. "I think Emily Jane might be right." The room was so still that one could almost count the number of breaths just by listening. "I think living on animal blood just isn't working. I don't know you guys do it, but it isn't for me. I'm sorry."

"Jack," this time it's North who speaks. A big comforting arm reaches to him. "Jack, please, let us-"

"Thank you for looking after me these last few years." He didn't want to hear them speak, lest they say something that actually changed his mind. He didn't want this anymore. "But I think I need to find my own way."

He turned on his heel and departed, ignoring Tooth's cry and North's disappointed look.

~~~0~~~

 _Creamy Mushroom Soup (by Tooth)_

 _What you need:_

 _6 tablespoons of melted butter_

 _1 thinly sliced onion_

 _200 g of Portobello mushrooms_

 _140 g of White mushrooms_

 _3 cups of light chicken stock_

 _1 cup of chicken blood_

 _2 sprigs of rosemary_

 _Parsley_

 _Salt_

 _Freshly ground black pepper_

 _How to prepare:_

 _1) Heat a saucepan. Add melted butter and onions. Cook until onion turns brown and translucent._

 _2) Add all mushrooms and spread them out evenly. Let it cook for 10 minutes._

 _3) Add chicken stock, blood and rosemary. Stir the mixture and bring to boil._

 _4) Reduce heat and allow simmering for an hour._

 _5) Remove from heat and allow to cool. Then pour soup into a good processor and turn into a puree._

 _6) After blending, return mixture to pot. Heat back up again. Add salt and pepper to taste_

 _7) Add parsley for garnish and serve._

~~~0~~~

It was a very boring walk, but it wasn't too strenuous, thankfully. As far as he could tell, his bandages were still in place.

He went up to the porch door and rang the bell. He waited.

The door opened. "Jack?"

It's Tooth. She seemed too pale for some of her skin tone, and she looked she might have been crying.

He didn't know what else to say, so he just said, "Hi."

She supposed to be mad with him – for disobeying her, for fighting with her – but he can tell she no longer trying so hard to maintain her wrath. He didn't however expect her to fling her arms around him and sob into his chest. He didn't even have the heart to tell her that it was just recently bandaged and it still hurt, so he just hugged her back in turn.

She only pulled away from him after a whole minute, and when she did, she yanked him into the mansion, practically screaming at the top of her voice, "He's back! Jack's back!"

Lights flickered on. Feet scrambled down the steps. Figures pushed past each other as if in a race. Around the corridor, Sandy emerged first, beaming brightly and running over to embrace Jack. Being quite short however, his arms just circled the boy's waist.

The boy chuckled as he gazed down at the golden-haired man. "Hi Sandy. Sorry to make you guys-"

"JACK!" He'd know that booming voice from anywhere. The moment Sandy released him, the boy found himself abruptly lifted off the ground and smashed into the familiar rotund form. His ribs screamed as North's muscular arms tightened around him. "HAHA! You are not dead!"

"North!" Jack wheezed, gasping for air. "Please!"

"Oh, oops." The big man suddenly let go off him, sheepish about his enthusiasm.

"Where's the kid? Is he dead? Is he dying?" Bunny came scrambling down the steps, eyes darting frantically. It might have been Jack's imagination, but he sounded anxious. The minute his gaze laid itself on the boy, his tensed shoulders relaxed. Relief poured over his features and …maybe a little glad? Any expression of positive emotions however was quickly suppressed, and all he said was "There's blood brownies in the fridge. If you want."

Jack nodded, knowing full well the meaning behind the stiffness. "Thanks."

Bunny awkwardly shuffled his feet and headed the corridor, acting as if he had descended the steps for entirely different reasons.

" _You must be starving,"_ Sandy signed with his hands, thumbing as he did. _"Why not I make us all something to eat?"_

The boy laughed. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

So the Guardians gathered down in the kitchen to partake a meal together – though Bunny pretended that he happened to be there to check the expiry date as they often did. There Jack would tell them of what had occurred to him, both grim and pleasant, and they would bicker and argue on the next course of action. But for now, all was well, for their boy was home.

~~~0~~~

On another side of Burgess was a lone figure stopped along Fjord Avenue, dark robes flapping in the wind. He stood himself outside the house there and raised his head to the window on the second floor.

Against the backdrop of the lighted room, a slender elegant figure moved. Her white-gold had been undone from its braid, rolling down her shoulders. She lay something heavy on her table near the window before letting out a heavy exhale. With a gloved hand, she brushed back the locks that were in front of her eyes, tilt her head to the side as she shot a glance behind her. Her posture haggard and her face was pinched with worry. She was like one who carried a heavy burden, and yet her beauty was no less because of it.

He watched as she disappeared from the window and the room went dark. He was certain that she was going to bed now, though it was doubtful that she would get much sleep. Her sister probably already dozed off, which would leave her alone in her thoughts and fears.

Poor Elsa. So _alone_. So _afraid_.

He would show her, yes, he would, that she didn't have to be alone. He wouldn't ever let be alone, if she'd let him.

But not right now.

For now, he would let her quiver in the darkness. He would let her fears devour her. For now, he would stroll back down the street whence he came, cane stabbing the road methodically at intervals and coat flapping behind him. For now, he would let the shadows of the night engulf him in its suffocating embrace. For now, he would bear with the emptiness of his heart and the nightmares that lingered in the back of his mind. For now, he would pretend that his plans would give him the reprieve that he needed from his cursed existence.

Immortality was, after all, a very lonely disease.

~~~0~~~

 **I started this chapter thinking of writing the fight between Eugene and Jack, but then I got lazy and didn't. There'd be enough fighting eventually. Theirs would be unimportant. Left out that part, and still haven't written all that I had planned for this chapter 'coz it's way too long.**

 **I keep telling me self not to turn this into some kind of epic tale, but no, the writer just writes, and writes, and writes. It's ridiculous even.**

 **Emily Jane is from the** _ **Guardians of Childhood Books**_ **. In the books, she's Mother Nature, supposedly 'neutral' in the war between the Guardians and Pitch. She's described on the wiki as temperamental and cold. Why on earth she has such an English-y English name when her father's name is 'Kozmotis Pitchiner', I will never know.**

 **Believe it or not, a good deal of this story is actually inspired by …Star Wars. Go figure.**

 **Guest Reviews Mailbox:**

 **Alene Mask: Well, I managed to avoid a cliffhanger for this one. Hehehe, maybe I should have made the pale gentleman an incredible unimportant OC that dies in the next chapter. Ah, well, too late now. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Well, the next chapter should be back to school, because this is a flippin' story about flippin' teenagers and my characters don't go to school enough.**

 **Reviews would be nice, but I won't die if you don't give any. At least, if I do die, I hope I won't be revived as a vampire and forced to hunt y'all down. I'm not sayin' – I'm just saying. Yah.**

 **Bye.**


	9. Chapter 9

The nightmares were getting worse.

She kept waking up between them, clutching herself and sweating. She didn't tell Anna, but she went to sleep down in the living room the night before so that her tossing and turning wouldn't wake her sister up. Not that many things could wake Anna up – she snoozed like the dead.

She had awoken the same time as she always had, though with hair disheveled and bags under her eyes this round. Rubbing her neck and yawning, Elsa dragged her feet back up the stairs, heading to the bedroom she shared with her sister. She tossed her blanket back onto her bed. Anna, as she had predicted, was still fast asleep, with limbs askew and hair tangled like a mop. Her sister was never the most elegant.

As the blonde girl stepped into the bathroom, she rubbed her eyes and headed for the sink. She vaguely noticed the flickering above her and groaned. They would have change out the bulb again.

Barely being able to keep her eyes open, she opted for washing her face first. She reached for the bottle that Anna and her shared, pouring the contents on her palm then slapped on her face. Instructions told her to rub the cleanser gently on her face in circles, but she was honestly too tired do anything but scrubbing her skin as if she was scrubbing the floor. She rinsed off the soap before reaching for the face towel and dabbing the skin dry.

Well, until she noticed the red stains on the towel.

She blinked, holding the stained object at arms length as she did. She examined her hands. They weren't bleeding. She glanced towards the mirror to check for a nosebleed. She didn't see one.

In fact, she didn't see her nose in the mirror. Or her eyes. Or any part of herself in fact.

What she did see, however, were words written in blood –

 _'MINE'_

She staggered back, a scream escaping her lips as she did. Suddenly, she heard cackling laughter – somewhere, somewhere in the bathroom.

And the lights started to flicker. Rapidly. Endlessly. Tauntingly.

And they went out.

She felt in the darkness, trying not to let her thudding heart drown out her thinking. Why was it so dark? Where was the door? The sink? Where was everything?

She felt something trickling down her neck. She reached up her hand to touch a liquid, warm and vicious.

And suddenly she felt that hand being grabbed.

She screamed, pulling against it. She stumbled back against –

\- the dusted concrete floor of the classroom.

"Ms. Arendelle!"

She sat herself up cautiously between the two tables flanking her. Her classmates sitting at those tables stared down at her, and she realized that she was no longer in her night clothes, but in plain blouse and an even plainer pleated skirt. As she pulled herself to her feet, she discovered that in fact her entire class was staring at her.

The math tutor at the front board appeared extremely annoyed as she peered her down through the spectacles. "Ms. Arendelle, do you think you could cease making a spectacle so that we can resume class?"

She was in class. There was an empty seat just a step away that had all her books laid out around it. She must have fallen asleep in class. Which she had never done before.

Muttering a quiet apology, Elsa hurried returned to her seat. Her peers were very much amused with all that had occurred and started muttering to one another, so much so that the tutor had to rap her knuckles on the board to silence them. As she gazed down at the pages laid before her, her brows furrowed together. She flipped the pages back at forth, then raised her head to stare at the wash of equations scrawled on the board. She glanced around her, at her classmates, at the classroom.

She didn't remember coming here. Not in the slightest.

She felt her neck just to make sure. It was dry. It must have all been a dream then.

But it felt so _real_. And how could she have forgotten everything between waking up and sitting down for class? She couldn't have just slept-walked the whole way through. She wasn't that much like Anna!

She sat herself upright. Anna! What did she think of all this?

Her hand dove into her pocket. There were dozens of messages on it. Most were from Anna, asking her if she was feeling alright. So Anna did notice something amiss. She typed back a hasty assurance. The last thing was Anna to tell Kai, because Kai would force her to see her doctor, or worse, a shrink.

Elsa shuddered.

There were a few messages from Kristoff. She opened them up, and groaned when she realized they were all about the blood drive … which was two days from now. With how groggy she was feeling and with an odd sense of doom looming in the back of her head, she was hardly in the mood for it. What with the incident with Anna, the nightmares, that odd meeting with Hans and curious things that she had supposed learned about Jack.

Jack. Was he back in school? In her dazed state, she wouldn't have noticed it earlier. Then again, she didn't know if she wanted to see him again. If she didn't, that meant she would have to confront him, and she mightn't like what he had to say.

"Miss Arendelle," the tutor snapped, "are you going to put away that phone, or must I take it from you?"

She meekly slipped the phone back in her pocket, but didn't catch anything else that happened during that class.

~~~0~~~

"How was going home?"

"Okay. How was the anniversary?"

"Just managed to survive it." Hiccup paused thoughtfully, before adding, "Oh, Astrid sort of hates you now."

"Again?"

"She's usually not this temperamental, but she feels that you kind of ruined this anniversary, so…" the auburn-haired boy shrugged. "Yeah."

"Ah." Jack scratched his head, not sure exactly what to say.

Class had just ended, which meant that students were pouring out of the classroom and the locker-flanked corridor was crowded with students. While that was an incredibly normal experience, Jack found himself feeling oddly warm. For some reason, he found himself glancing towards his various schoolmates during his conversation with his friend. He didn't know why his attention kept flitting to them – it wasn't as if they were wearing anything particularly interesting, or that they were speaking about something that interested him. It was a perfectly normal school day, but he was just acutely aware of every single person around – a sensation that he hadn't felt ever since…well, ever since…

Oh, no. She was here.

Actually, she wasn't anywhere nearby. His eyes hadn't even spotted her in the swarms of people, but somehow, he knew that she was coming his way. He could hear her steps moving towards him, her heart thudding at a rate that wasn't quite normal, and her scent … he hadn't realized when he had learned to recognize it, but he did.

"Hey, what's the matter?"

Jack blinked, head jerking to Hiccup. He hadn't noticed that he had stopped, but apparently, he had, and right in the middle of the walkway too. His gaze left him however to stare straightforward in expectation. Sure enough, two classrooms down, she was also there, stopped in the middle of hall, ignoring the other teens milling around him. Her brilliant blue eyes bore into him.

Hiccup eyed him curiously, then followed his line of sight down to the hall, letting out a low whistle as he did. "Soooo-" he rubbed his hands together "-are you guys going to run towards each other and kiss when reach the middle?"

Jack shoved him back by the shoulder. Perhaps it was a little too hard, because Hiccup ended up crashing into locker doors with a loud 'blam!' The students who noted the scene just widened their eyes in surprise, before deciding to discreetly distance themselves from it. The white-haired lad would have felt a little bad if he didn't know that Hiccup's wiry frame was but a deception.

In the back drop, he could hear the other boy cursing, but Jack kept his eyes on the blonde girl across the hall, trying to read her expression. There was a measure of anger there. Of course, there was. He had run off on Friday night when she needed him, before proceeding to ignore her for two whole days – in her eyes at least. But there was also a hint of trepidation and … fear?

Why was she afraid of him? He hadn't down anything to hurt her.

Yet, a voice whispered in his head.

He could see her turn her head towards Anna and could hear her answer her sister's question, as if she were standing right by his side. "Nothing. Let's go."

He watched her turn away, heading off in the opposite direction. Part of him was incredibly relieved. The confrontation was avoided, and by her too, so he didn't to bear the guilt. But something in him twanged with horror from her cool dismissal. She had to know that he wanted to talk to her, right? So maybe they weren't an item, and perhaps they never will be ('not like Hiccup and Astrid at least', he thought bitterly), but they still were sort of friends? Schoolmates?

Not that he liked those titles any better.

"You know, I think I'm going to stay away from you for a while," Hiccup announced drily. He had recovered from his collision with the lockers. In fact, it was the lockers that looked dented, not himself. "You're acting very odd."

"Well, I learn it from you," was his own disgruntled reply, before decidedly shoving his way through the crowd, advancing determinedly towards the girl.

The scrawny, auburn-boy let out a contemptuous sniff. "I don't know why I'm even friends with him sometimes," he complained to the unfortunate bystander who happened to be in vicinity.

~~~0~~~

"Elsa."

She wouldn't have stopped, but unfortunately, she was with Anna, and when Anna stopped, she had no choice but to do the same.

"Elsa," the white-haired boy sounded like he was panting as he slowed himself down. "Please, I need – we need to talk."

"Yes, we do," was her stiff, reluctant reply.

Anna glanced at the panting boy, then at her sister. The two did not say anything. As Jack caught his breath, Elsa shot her a look.

The younger girl sighed. "Fine. I'll leave you guys to it." Waving her hand carelessly, Anna continued her march down the stairway, leaving the two standing on the steps, to one another.

Elsa watched as Jack fumbled over the words, "Listen, I know that – I meant, I kind of-"

"Why did you run off, Jack?" she demanded, cutting him off. On any other day, she might have found his nervousness endearing, but the lack of sleep and the unanswered questions have made her rather short of temper. "What are you hiding?"

"Hiding?" He let out an uneasy laugh. He wasn't a good liar. "I'm not hiding anything."

"You're not telling me the truth, Jack." Her teeth clenched themselves together. A great heat boiled inside her as a flood of held-back emotions slammed against her full force. "Why did you run off Friday night? Why didn't contact me the last two days?"

"Okay, okay, for the second question, I have a legitimate excuse." He grinned weakly at her – oh, for goodness' sake! Was he trying to joke with her? "I lost my phone."

The memory of her encounter with the redhead who had claimed himself a 'vampire hunter' surfaced in her mind. This little fact fit perfectly with what Hans had told her. She shelved this thought for the meanwhile, deciding to attack him on grounds that she knew.

"There are other ways to communicate, you know, like-" a low growl of frustration rumbled in the back of her throat "-actually coming down to see me, or was that too inconvenient for you?"

He seemed hurt, and she almost repented. But when he pressed his lips together and rubbed his elbow, sympathy was rapidly squashed. Was she always going to let him avoid the questions?

She allowed him a minute. Two minutes. Still silence.

"You know what?" Her tone was bitter. How could she help it? "If we're not going to be honest with each other, then we might as well not talk at all." She spun around, fully intending to stomp away.

"Wait! Elsa, give me a chance to-" she marched determinedly on, giving no sign of weakness "-this isn't easy for me to – I can't – you don't understand!"

"I can't understand anything if you don't give me a chance," she couldn't resist flinging that back at him. She was extraordinarily irate today, and he would not find her so forgiving. "You don't even need to turn up for the blood drive on Wednesday."

"Elsa, wait!" He grasped her hand, forcing her to stop. His grip was actually very strong, but it was abruptly released when he cried out in pain.

She stopped then, spinning aroundsharply. His expression was contorted in pain as he stared down at his own pale bare palm. She didn't get a good look at it, however, before he abruptly clenched his fist. He peered down down to the silver band around her gloved middle finger flickered up to her. "Since when did you wear a ring?"

"Since I felt like it," was her cold answer. Though her face bore no expression, inwardly, she was taken aback. Could it be that Hans was actually right? Did that myth he concoct hold an element of truth? It couldn't be, yet.

The boy dropped his hand, hooking it behind where she couldn't see, too eager to return to the subject at hand. "Look, I – please, just – have dinner with me."

He asked that just a minute after telling her that he was't hiding anything. Just a minute after lying straight to her face. Her thumb rubbed against the silver ring as the memory of three nights before returned. Could it be that Jack was in league with those who had assaulted Anna? Would they come again to finish the job?

She hid her thought in her frosty reply. "We've gone for dozens of meals together, Jack. Nothing's changed. The communication-" she waved at the space between them "-doesn't exist!"

He must not have guessed her thoughts, for he went on rambling, "Look, what about – what if-" she shook her head, turning away when it burst out "- _come to my place._ "

That made her stop short. Elsa eyed him with suspicion. "What?"

"Have dinner at my place. With my folks," he spluttered out. "And I'll tell you – I'll explain to you everything. Everything you want to know."

The blonde girl stared at him for a good moment, trying to gauge his intentions. It was clear that he was perfectly serious. He was too desperate not to, which begged the question – why was he so desperate then?

Finally, she answered, "Alright."

"Really?" His entire face lit up and his shoulders sagged with relief. "Well, great! You won't regret it!"

"Won't your family mind?" What about all that drama about his familial objection? Or was that as fictional as everything else?

"Oh, no, they'll be fine." He waved away her concerns. "They'll love to meet you. So-" he hastily changed the subject "-seven? I can pick y-"

"That won't be necessary." She shut him down sharply, making him clamp his jaw closed, anxious not to offend. "I know where your house is."

"Okay, great!" He gave her a double thumbs-up. "Soooo, I'll see you?"

She nodded, stepping backwards in the direction that Anna had disappeared to. "At seven."

"Yes." He nodded like she did. "Seven."

"Good." She eventually dared to turn her back on him. She didn't know what she expected – they were in broad daylight, for goodness' sake. "Goodbye."

"See you later," he answered. "Or, goodbye. Anything works."

He was hiding something. He was definitely hiding something.

Elsa marched off the school compound as quickly as her legs could carry her. Anna had already gone a long way ahead, and the elder sister couldn't help but feel a deep sense of urgency to find her, to make sure she was alright and wasn't about to be eaten up by cannibalistic monsters.

No, no. This was stupid. This was just paranoia. It was the nightmares -they're starting to get to her brain. That's why she considered Hans' bizarre story. That's why she wore the ring and tested it.

But nightmares or not, she hadn't been dreaming when she saw the guilt in Jack expression, nor the pain and shock when he withdrew his hand from her own.

Panic struck her heart as she hastened her pace to find her sister.

She gasped in relief when she finally found Anna. She had stopped outside the long abandoned phone box, chatting with Kristoff who happened to be there too. The blonde girl then allowed her pace to slow, catching her breath. But doubt raged in her mind and she had a sinking feeling that her sister's wellbeing was only short-lived.

It was only a matter of time, after all, that her sister's memories of the attacker would be resurface, and if the attacker was any wiser, he would strike her down before that happened.

That attacker could be someone that Jack knew. Could even be someone he was protecting.

 _Someone in his so-called family._

Each member of the Guardians looked so different, acted so different. They were more like a cluster of people forced to live together out of necessary than relation. Or perhaps they were really related by blood.

That was, via the consumption of it.

She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe herself believing it. But there was something strange going on – something frightening and dangerous. She wasn't safe. Anna wasn't safe. With an upcoming blood drive of ALL things, the whole of Burgess wasn't safe.

She needed to do something, but she didn't know what.

Elsa whipped out her phone and dialed the number of Jack's phone – the one that he lost. In the distance, Anna's still chatting away with Kristoff, oblivious to the impending doom that surrounded her, and the whole of this town.

The voice that comes after the dial tone was smug, almost like he knew she was going to call him, _"Hello?"_

"I think you might've been right."

~~~0~~~

He intended to leave Necropolis, but the crowds somehow swept him up with them and he was trapped in the middle of the market square with no sense of his whereabouts. He tried to ask for directions from those around him, but they paid him no mind, either because they didn't understand what he was saying or that they simply didn't care. Brotherhood amongst vampires didn't seem to be as big a thing as Pitch Black had made it out to be.

He found himself shoved in front of a stall selling an assortment of precious stones, with the shop owner eyeing him suspiciously. Muttering a quick apology, he was about to pull himself away from the stall when he noticed a young man bound in chains, kneeling next to the stall. A quick listen for his heart beat revealed that this fellow was a flesh and blood human. The young man by his garments appeared to be from the Mediterranean, but his fair complexion and his bright blue eyes seemed to hint that his birth origin was elsewhere. Between his cuffed hands, Jack spotted a small wire that that the young slave was using to pick the locks on his chains. He jerked his head up suddenly, swinging sharply towards Jack. He paused his attempt to escape in favour of assessing the white-haired vampire, glittering eyes taunting him to tell him off to his owner.

Jack decided to walk away from the scene, losing himself back into the crowded market. The people around him pushed forward, making him surge forward against his own will. As it happened, a small, empty alley came into view and he hastily made his way towards it, escaping the throng in time.

As he did, he suddenly heard a voice, rasping and harsh, fervent and fierce. He couldn't make out the words from where he was, but he could hear people - vampires – cheering between the breaks. He followed the noises down the alley, before he turned into another square, just as large as the market one. The only difference was that people weren't hustling and bustling about. They were rooted to the ground, heads raised towards the stone platform from which a familiar figure in black robes declared, "Why, oh, why, do we allow ourselves this humiliation? Why, oh, why do we permit ourselves to fade into obscurity?"

Murmurs of assent broke out in the crowd. Jack lifted a brow at those around him, before his directing his gaze back to Pitch.

The vampire king certainly threw himself entirely into his speech. "Are we not higher beings? Are we not the greatest incarnation of mankind ever existed? Why do we hide from the world – the world that by right should have been our inheritance?" He snorted in disgusted. "Think honestly for yourselves, my kinsman. Perhaps for now you are satisfied with your mediocre immortality, but one day -" he wagged a bony finger towards the audience "-one day, the human masses with know of us, and they will overwhelm us. And we will curse ourselves for not preventing this."

The clamour rose to the stone rafters as everyone in the square began voicing their opinions to their neighbours. Pitch took a step back, gazing upon the contention with a pleased smirk.

"He plays on their fears."

Jack jumped when he noticed the scruffy, grey-haired man leaning against the wall near him. He was chewing on something that the boy didn't recognize, but by the smell, it wasn't blood. How a vampire could willingly put something in his mouth that wasn't blood, Jack would never understand.

The fellow who called Bunnymund by his peers and 'Bunny' by the insolent boy in his head spat out part of the leaf that he was chewing on – leaves? Gross – before narrowing his eyes to the stage, where Pitch had resumed his speech.

Bunnymund didn't seem to impressed by it."He was pretty notorious in his day. Some kind of war general – a lot of power, and a lot of enemy." He crunched up a couple of leaves in his hand once more and stuff it in his mouth.

Jack wasn't sure what to answer, and wasn't sure if he wanted to. It had been only a few hours ago that he discovered that vampires had existed in such large numbers, and that they were divided in such opposing factions. He mightn't be extremely inclined to the supramacistic point of view that Pitch Black offered, but the pacifist point of view, as Emily Jane had commented, was very impractical. Not to mention, at least Pitch had been honest with him. So far.

"Which dump did North pick you from, mate?" Bunny was asking him, snapping him out of his own brooding.

"We met at Worcestershire." He had been trying to isolate himself from humankind in the countryside, and North had come across him while during one of his hikes across the country.

"Britain?" the other fellow sounded disgusted. He shook his head. "That place has some of the dullest cuisine I have ever known."

"Excuse me?" Jack was offended. Sure, he never really ate well back when he was human – he was too poor. And he had never experienced the best that English cuisine could offer. But Bunny's straight dismissal of it was still displeasing. It didn't help that Bunny was also quite an unlikeable fellow.

"I've travelled across the world, mate, and trust me when I say that England has some of the most boring food I've ever tasted."

Jack eyed him incredulously. "You're a vampire."

"Yes?"

"Human food is tasteless to us regardless of how it's cooked."

"Rubbish." Bunny's contradiction was direct and it did take Jack aback. "Don't deny it till you've tried it, mate."

They're conversation was interrupted by the blowing of horns, and the crowd suddenly ceased their chatter and parted themselves. There, an array of handmaidens came down the cleared path, with Emily Jane herself marching hastily between them. Her hands clutched her long robe in her anger as she screamed, " _HOW DARE YOU?"_

"Me? My dear girl-" Pitch descended from the platform, his hands raised with innocent expression "-I have no idea what is it you accuse me of."

"You dare you speak to my subjects behind my back, against my authority!" The princess was didn't budge, stomping all the way in front of him. Chin lifted proudly and fanged teeth gritted, she proclaimed loudly enough for all to hear, "I am elected leader of this city! You have no right to speak-"

"I am a king!"

"An arbitrary title that give you no power unless I grant it, and be sure that I won't," she hissed at him. "You have no right to press your opinions on my people outside the council-"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Pitch's gold eyes flashed in return as his own tone became grating. "Perhaps I should just let you continue leading our proud race into ruin!" This made the silent watching throng break out into whispers.

Emily Jane noticed this, and this only to have incensed her more. Swinging back towards him, she spat, "Are you challenging my authority, father?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Just answer the question."

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't lack vision as much as you do." This was said in oddly gentle tone.

This answer did not assuage the woman's anger in anyway. To one of her handmaiden's, she said, "Get me a weapon."

A collective gasp echoed through the square, which only made Jack scrunch his face up in bewilderment. "I don't understand," he murmured to Bunny. "It's not like that they can actually hurt each other with weapons."

The man regarded him with a strange look. "You don't know much about vampires, do you?"

Jack frowned. "I do know that we're immortal for a reason."

"Well-" he turned from the boy, spitting out the leaves that he had been munching on "-there's a reason why vampires haven't flooded the earth yet, and it's not just because vampires are fussy about who they turn."

The handmaiden had return with a long scimitar that would have made a weaker woman buckle under its weight. But for Emily Jane, princess of vampires, it was like lifting a pencil. At the sight of her blade, the crowd immediately shifted back, giving room for the two of royals.

"Maybe she'll kill him," Bunny murmured quietly, more to himself than to Jack. "The gods know how I wish I could."

"We don't have to do this, daughter," came Pitch's warning. He had no weapon on himself save his walking cane, and he did not call for one either.

"It's only a matter of time before we have to, father," was her answer. Perhaps it was Jack's imagination, but there was a growing grin on her lips. "I've been waiting for this for years."

The first strike was sudden, and came in the form of the princess leaping in the air and throwing her scimitar forward. Pitch immediately raised his cane to parry, not at all surprised by her attack. Emily Jane continued fiercely on offensive, both hands gripping tightly on sword as she lifted her blade once again, hacking it down on her father over and over. The man continued his method of defense, allowing her to push him back and back down the path that the masses had cleared for them. Not a sound was heard save the sound of clashing weapons and the curses that the princess rained down on her father. Pitch's expression was blank and his manner calm. His posture was straight and he merely blocked off the attacks by twisting his wrist, all with his free hand wrapped behind him. He looked almost bored.

When Emily Jane pushed him up the stairs of the speaking platform, his tactics abruptly altered. After blocking off one of her strikes as he did before, he pressed something along his cane and the blunted end suddenly gained two large curved blades, turning the cane into a scythe. He swept his weapon down at her. Caught by surprise, Emily Jane only managed to duck in time as the blade flew over her head. She leapt back as he swung the scythe at her once again, flustered at how she was to go against his much larger and heavier weapon. One of her handmaiden threw her another scimitar, and she caught it just in time to her father brought his scythe down on her. Two of her blade slammed against the shaft of his, and she raised a foot to kick in him back, sending him flying straight across the square, smashing into a building. People fluttered and chattered amongst themselves as Pitch emerged from the stone wreckage, brushing the dust off his robes, eyes narrowed. If there was any doubt about his seriousness in battling his own daughter, it was gone now.

Pushing himself forward at a speed that was impossible for a human, his scythe whipped down upon to the woman, only to be thrown back as Emily Jane went for a strike off her own, blade towards his chest. She missed however, and only slashed the side of his arm. Jack gasped as he saw blood leak down the side of the gaunt vampire's arm. He glanced at Bunny in askance.

Bunny only smiled grimly. "We're immortal, but we're not invincible to everything."

This earned a growl of fury from Pitch as he slammed the blunt top of his scythe against, jolting her down so hard that the stone ground below cracked. Emily Jane scrambled back to her feet, a scimitar lifted for a swing, but Pitch slapped it out of her grip before his scythe, sending the blade flying across the crowd. The vampires quickly covered their heads with their hands, crouching in fear as the sword found itself stabbed in the side of wooden cart. The second scimitar was clamped to the ground by the Vampire King's boot, before being kicked out of reach. The princess was on her knees, panting as her father held his scythe over her head with his uninjured hand.

"I have defeated you," he stated, eyes boring down on her. "Do you confer your authority to me?"

The princess only stared up at him in silent defiance.

"Well, that's a fine pot of mess we're in," Bunny murmured. From what Jack could see, he seemed quite chagrinned by the results of the duel. "Manny would love to hear about this."

"Who's Manny?" Jack asked.

Bunny did not answer, for he was then distracted by the vampire king urged the princess, "Well? Do you?"

Emily Jane parted her lips to speak, but no one would ever know what she said. For out of a sudden, a long wooden projectile lodge itself in her breast.

Cries of shock echoed through the square. The vampire king wasted no time on such expressions however, dropping his scythe to catch the princess before her body hit the ground. But the action was useless, for her body had already gone limp and her eyes had glazed over. Below her, a pool of blood had begun to form

"The princess is dead!" a panicked cry rang out in the square.

As people began to scream and moan, Jack watched the vampire king stare down at his daughter, aghast, before jerking his head up. A soft, whizzing sound was heard and suddenly, the blur of an arrow came down towards Pitch. Before the white-haired boy could scream a warning, Pitch had already caught it mid-air, only to drop it and clutch his hand in agony. Even from his position, Jack could see the burn mark on the pale palm.

And then the city shook, rattling by an explosion going off at one of the buildings. The shrieks intensified, as someone in the crowd declared, "The city is under att-"

That person had to break off, for the next moment his head sprouted feathers. Those around him gasped as he yelped in pain, only for him be silence as the another projectile pierced his chest. He crumbled to the ground, shriveled and lifeless, the way all of the undead beings were meant to be.

And the city square exploded into smokey flames.

While the crowds were distracted the crumbling structures around them, arrows rained down from above. Vampires all around suddenly began to collapse, and the masses began to panic. Most vampires tried to escape down the narrow alleys, but the sheer numbers had started a jam, making it only too easily for their silent assailants to take them down.

These assailants were the archers, positioned on the balconies of the shop building with bows in their hands. These archers were all dressed in hoods, with masks that covered most of their faces and they released projectiles at almost inhuman speeds. This was truly remarkable, for they were in fact, all humans.

Well, they had heartbeats.

Some of these archers had actually leapt down from the balconies and whipped out long blades, stabbing and slashing any of the vampires that came near them, ending each attack by plunging wooden spears into their foes' chest. Jack himself was almost impaled by one of these special spears. If Bunny hadn't slammed his hooded assailant against the wall in time, he would have certainly been.

Grabbing the boy's wrist, the older vampire instructed him, "Move!"

Jack didn't protest.

As Bunny pulled him through the battle, shoving away potential attackers and kicking their way through the stalls and wagons, Jack noticed one of the assailants standing on the balcony who was not hooded. He was speaking rapidly to his colleagues, before his gaze turned abruptly to Jack. It was then that the white-haired lad recognize him as the slave that he had seen picking himself out of his cuffs. He must have been with these attackers all along.

"Who are these people?" he called to Bunny. "Why are they doing this?"

"Vampire hunters," was Bunny's answer. At the boy's incredulous expression, he let out a dry chuckle. "If you knew about vampires back when you were human, why wouldn't you kill them?"

Just before they left the square, Jack cast one last look behind him. None of the hunters were following them – good.

His eyes then darted over to vampire king. Pitch's scythe was now marked with the blood of the hunters that had attempted to challenge him, and around him was littered the bodies as evidence. Though surrounded by so much blood, the ancient vampire didn't waste time on feeding. Instead, he kneeled on the ground, holding his unmoving daughter, forehead pressed against hers.

~~~0~~~

"You invited her for dinner."

"Um, yes?"

Bunny shoved his seat back as he stood to his feet, facing turning into the colour of beetroot. "I'm going to kill you."

"Sit down, Bunny." Tooth placed a firm hand on his shoulder and forced him back into his seat. She turned sharply to Jack, eyes ablaze. "What were you thinking?"

He shifted uneasily in his seat. "Um, I … wasn't?"

"Of course he wasn't thinking!" Bunny fumed, slamming his hands on the table, sending a crack through it. Tooth slapped a palm to her forehead but he didn't notice. "Look at that white-hair! You know why it's white? But the only thing he's has between his ear is fluff! White, squishy fluff!"

"Hey." Jack pouted. "That's not nice."

"He has _flippin'_ cottonballs for brains! Cottonballs! He's like a stuffed toy!"

 _"Actually, I think North's more like a soft toy,"_ Sandy signed with a wry expression.

"Because I'm more cuddly?" North asked, amused.

" _Well_." The small, fair-haired vampire shrugged. " _I was just going to say it's because you have a large waist span, but sure. Whatever works."_

"We're getting off topic," Tooth snapped, wrapping knuckles sharply on the table. Spinning to the teenager and glaring hard enough to make him squirm, she demanded, "You will apologise to the girl, and withdraw the invitation."

"Come now, Tooth. Don't be a spoilsport," North interjected before Jack could protest. "She's a pleasant devushka. There's no harm."

"Are you mad?" Poor Bunnymund looked like he was on the verge of breaking down, with his hair frazzled and his form haggard. "We don't invite mortal into our home! What if she pokes into the fridge? Or asks why we have curtains? Or where the heck all our money comes from?"

"Where does all the money come from, actually?" Jack whispered to Sandy, who was mostly amusing himself with folding handkerchiefs. Before this meeting had begun, the mute man had brought a pile of them, just dried off the washing line. He had predicted too well that this discussion was going to take forever, and felt that he had better bring something productive to do at the same time.

 _"Investments. Accidental Inheritance,"_ Sandy answered him, cracking his fingers together as he thought deeper. _"Also occasional treasure hunting and selling antiques on the black market."_

"We can do this in a sensible manner, can we not?" the Russian-born vampire suggested. "We can dine upstairs on the terrace. It would be nice and cool, yes? And far away from the kitchen."

"North." Tooth's tone was icy. "You're not actually encouraging this, are you?"

"Someone kill me," came Bunny's moan behind his hands. "Please. I can't take it."

"It would be at night, so no harms of the sun. And she would see that we, the Guardians-" gesturing the rest of them "-are the very souls of hospitality, and she would tell others, and that would improve our image amongst others, yes?"

"WE ARE NOT TRYING TO BE LIKED!" The woman shrieked, standing to her feet and pointing at Jack, who had a sinking feeling that this was not going to end well. "STOP COVERING FOR HIM!"

"No." North, for all his genial appearances, had a very short-temper. He was starting to get testy. "But we are supposed to keep hold of our humanity, and that includes following human customs!"

"Not at the risk of _being discovered!_ "

"It will be always a risk, regardless of when! We must try!" the large man argued. "If we keep making excuses to avoid humanity, we also risk hardening our hearts to them. That is a road that Manny has often warned us about."

"But why must it be for this particular case?" In her aggression, her fangs had started protruded beyond her lip – not that that stopped her rant. "You know why Jack asked her. It's not out of innocent hospitality. He's playing with fire, and we can't let him-"

"HE'S A GROWN MAN, TOOTH!"

The furious boom resonated through the room, echoing off the wall and bouncing everywhere. All of them fell silently, and all the vampire stilled their breaths – not that they really needed that air to function, really – as the large man stared down the petite girl. Even Sandy had ceased his folding of handkerchiefs just to watch the scene.

Forcing himself to take a deep inhale, North started in a softer tone, "Jack might still look like a boy, Tooth. But he isn't one. He's capable of making his own decisions, even when it's, admittedly-" he cast an almost reproachful glance towards the boy, who looked like he wanted to floor to open up under him "-unwise. But he needs to make his own mistakes."

"But he's made so many others already," Tooth murmured, not scornful but more, well, fearful. Jack realised that he wasn't supposed to have heard that. "You know how those other times had hurt him."

"And like from those times, he will learn. And he will grow." North reached towards the boy and clapped him firmly on the shoulder, making Jack look straight him. The older vampire's expression was kind, but grave at the same time. "And he will become all the better from it."

The woman blew away the green strands from her fringe, contours of her countenance twisted into a dark scowl. Purple eyes flitted briefly to Jack, before she stomped out of the kitchen without another word. Her departure was observed with tensed silence, with the teenaged vampire awkward rubbing his neck to occupy himself.

North sighed, lifting his hand from Jack before rising from his seat, heading out through the door. Whether he intended to go after Tooth or not, that was not clear.

The three remaining in the kitchen did not say anything, and Bunny decided eventually to take his leave, grumbling under his breath as he did. As Jack made a move to do the same, he felt a tug on his sleeve, making his pause. Sandy was looking him meaningfully.

The boy inquired, "What?"

 _"Your girl's coming tonight, right?"_

He felt his cheeks flush crimson. "Um, she's not my-"

Sandy rolled his eyes, indicating how little he cared about Jack's pitiful denial. _"I doubt Bunny and Tooth's gonna help, and if North's looking after them, that leaves just me and you."_

"To do what?"

The golden man shot him a deadpan. _"Cook dinner. You do remember what you invited her for, right?"_

~~~0~~~

They had been on foot for nearly a week, only taking cover in daylight. But at night, it was endless travelling. He supposed that he could have left his companion – there was nothing holding them together after all, but he had to admit two things. First, he had no idea where they were, and by extension had no idea where he could run off. Second, the events that he had witnessed at Necropolis at had disturbed more than he realised.

They stopped at regular intervals, not to rest – their unnatural stamina was very helpful – but so that the other vampire could forage berries, or seeds, or leaves for himself to chew on. As one of those pacifists, like North and Tooth, Jack supposed that he should have expected his unexpected companion to have similar diet choices as the two of them. The only difference however was that while North and Tooth insisted on having proper meals, Bunnymund - or just Bunny, Jack had shortened in his mind – persisted on eating on the go. He was always munching on something, chewing on something. Sometimes he didn't even swallow his food, spitting it out onto nearby a tree or whatever unfortunate bush that happened to be in the way. It was very strange habit, and also very crude.

"Why do you keep doing that?" he finally asked the strange vampire while they trudged their way up a slope under the moonlight sky.

"Doing what?" Bunny spat out a mouthful of leaves.

"Eating stuff, then spitting it out."

"Oh. That." The tattooed man was carrying a sprig in his hand, so he tore off the leaves from its stem and crunched them into a ball. "I'm working on a hypothesis."

"A what?"

"A hypothesis." Noting Jack's blank expression, he elaborated, "It's like an idea that I'm testing out."

The boy wasn't sure what to make of it. "What are you testing?"

"Seeing if keeping my jaws working could stave off hunger," he answered, promptly stuffing the crunched leaves into his mouth and repeating his chewing once again.

Jack had never heard of such a thing. Then again, he had never met someone as a strange as Bunny. "Does it work?"

"Nope," he answered even as his jaws worked on mashing the leaves between them. "We'll need to go hunting tomorrow."

Of course, Bunny's idea of hunting was hunting animals, not humans. Jack was disappointed, but he also chided himself for expecting the vampire to do otherwise. He was after all from a group of pacifists.

Pacifistic vampires. The notion was unbelievable to the point of ridiculous.

They spent the next night feeding on the blood of an elephant. It was not easy to hunt their prey, for it was massive in size and strength. But as mighty as the grey beasts were, they were no match for the strength of the undead. That said, it had taken them a good part of an hour to succumb the beast.

Jack would have gone straight for the blood, but Bunny stopped him. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do this proper," he told him.

"Proper?" His expression was quizzical.

"Like a good, wholesome, sit-down, cooked meal."

Jack was bewildered. "Well, that's only after we've fed, right?" The scent of blood was very sweet, even if it was just that of an animal, and his appetite was calling him to throw the other vampire aside and take his fill. "I mean, don't we just drink the blood first then eat other-"

"Don't be ridiculous." Bunny sniffed at him. "That's an incredibly stupid method of feeding. It'd take lots of blood to get you full."

"Well, that's how Tooth and North fed," Jack pointed out curtly. He might not have appreciated how the two had hidden truths from him, but they nonetheless had earned a special place in his life. As poorly as he felt about their feeding habits, he was still obliged to defend them.

"Well, that's because they don't know what I'm going to teach you. Come." He waved his hand to Jack. "We don't have all night."

They concocted some kind of blood broth with chunks of elephant meat in it. Bunny hollowed out the elephant tusks and fashioned them into containers for their soup. Jack's unsure of what to think of all this, for the primitive, outdoor style of eating was plain out paradoxical to the attempt for civility in dining.

"Go on, kid," Bunny nodded towards his crudely made bowl that he handed to him. "Try it out."

He gazed dubiously down at the meal. The usual nausea that arose each time he came in contact with human food threatened to assault him, but it occurred that the smell drifting from the hollowed ivory tusk-bowl was one foreign to him. In his days as a living being, he had never even seen an elephant, even less eaten the meat from one. Somehow, there made him fee better.

He swallowed some of the broth and found the thick taste of blood pleasing to his senses, though the herbs and vegetables did throw him off for a moment. But it wasn't unpleasant, especially when it came to chewing the tough meat. His jaws enjoyed the work out and he found him gulping down the whole thing to fill his empty belly.

When he asked for seconds, the other vampire smirked triumphantly.

On the following night, while they journeyed, he finally got around asking where they were going. He got a name that he couldn't pronounce.

"What?"

The older vampire just gave him a withering look that spelt 'You are stupid, aren't you', before saying, slowly as if to a child, "A rendezvous point. To meet the others."

"What others?"

Other pacifists, apparently.

When they arrived to that place – which was really just a fire-pit in a stony enclave – however, there were only three figures there. Jack immediately identified to the large figure to be North and the slender one to be Tooth. There was a short fellow with golden hair that he had never met before, but if he didn't note his lack of heartbeat, Jack would have thought him some kind of imp. His appearance was far too friendly and kind for a vampire.

Tooth embraced him, of course, while North clapped him on the shoulder. He resisted the urge to smile at them, because he was supposed to still be kind of mad at them for inducting him into their little club without any permission. The golden-haired guy waved at him and shook his hand, but didn't give any kind of introduction.

They had seated themselves around the glowing fire when he asked, "So, where're the other pacifists?"

No answered at first, and he thought they hadn't heard his question. He was prepared to ask again when he noted the weary expression on his companions' faces.

The silence was finally broken with North, whose voice full of grief. "Many didn't make it."

"Not that there were many of us to start with," Bunny added darkly. This news came to him with no surprise, but there's still disappointment in his gaze, as if he had been hoping against it nonetheless. "If Pitch survived, he'll be having a field day. Everyone will be clambering to him, especially with Emily Jane gone."

" _Da_." North agreed. "She was the middle-ground. Now, there is no such thing. Vampires will be forced to take a side."

The small, sandy-haired vampire made a strange combination of gestures that had Jack puzzling over it.

"The hunters were very organized." Tooth was very somber, sounding almost like she was reminiscing the event. "Very prepared. How on Earth did they find the city?"

It was then that Jack realised that others around him understood the gestures from the sandy-haired man, as he created a new set that led Bunny to grunt out, "Well, I suppose the city had it coming, what with the mistreatment and humiliation."

"Not that it did them any good. I saw the hunters kill the goblins too. They were very intentional about eliminating everyone in the city."

The silent vampire made a series of gestures, to which his companions around him nodded as if in agreement.

"Sorry," the boy interrupted, very much lost. "What?"

"Sandy said that he saw that the hunters had matching tattoos. They carried silver weapons and stakes made of mountain-ash."

Sandy. He blinked at the small vampire, who smiled kindly in turn.

"Mountain-ash trees are not native to his region," Bunny pointed out grimly. "They must have quite a bit of resources to have the wood in such abundance."

"Yes," North conceded, stroking his beard. "It seems that this is not the work of superstitious villagers, but trained assassins."

The notion struck Jack as absurd. "Why would people want to do something like that?"

"Why wouldn't they?" That was the quiet answer from Tooth. There was such loathing on her fire-lit face.

There was a pause as the group pondered, before North finally declared, "We'll have to meet with Manny."

"Who?" That was Jack, of course. He had heard Bunny murmur that name somedays earlier, back in the city of Necropolis before it had erupted into flames.

"A friend of ours," was Tooth's answer. She gave him an assuring smile. "You'll like him."

Jack wasn't so sure about that.

~~~0~~~

As they left the soup to boil and the meat pies to bake, Sandy drew him to the kitchen table, sitting him down before sitting himself across him. The boy felt a little puzzled about what this was all about, but nonetheless complied to the manhandling by the small vampire.

He didn't know very much about Sandy's history, only that he was old – much older North, and much closer to Manny than any of the Guardians have ever been. In all the time that he had known the man, Jack had never seen him succumb to the ravenous behaviour that their undead bodies were programmed with, not even after long stretches of not-feeding.

Bunny had sneered Jack's praise, saying that Sandy just hid it better than the rest of them. Jack had thought the other vampire to be scornful of his fellow Guardian at first, but realised that Bunny was not being spiteful, but merely making an observation. As a vampire, Sandy's gentle control could not be natural and temptations were as real to the strong as to the weak. Age and experience had however given Sandy much time to master himself, which was why he was able to project a seemingly meek and cheery exterior in spite all that the anguish he must have seen.

Jack didn't remember this often, but when he did, his heart swelled with respect for the quietest member of the Guardians. Sandy looked and acted like the odd-uncle, pursing eccentric hobbies, maintaining a wry sense of humour all while being very epitome of joyous strength. He was hardly the most human of them, but he was certainly the nicest.

All these accumulated perceptions of the oldest Guardians was hence why Jack paid very close to attention to Sandy, for when the mute man told him things, it was worth listening to.

" _You have cause quite a stir amongst us,"_ Sandy signed to him. It wasn't accusatory, but Jack felt that the man wanted him to acknowledge it.

So, the boy nodded.

" _Had we been a weaker bunch, we might have divided ourselves over this. Vampires are-"_ pulling a face "- _pretty emotional creatures_."

Jack thought back to all the furniture, walls and ornaments that had been damaged over in this mansion and firmly agreed.

 _"We don't, of course, because we're the Guardians. For all our differences in opinion, our core beliefs are the same. That's why we stay together."_

Privately, Jack figured that there were other reasons, but he reckoned that bringing those up wouldn't add to whatever Sandy was trying to say.

 _"Basically, while Tooth and North are divided about how presently to handle your situation with the girl – Elsa?"_ He paused, waiting for confirmation from Jack to check if he had gotten the name right. After the boy nodded, he continued, _"However, both of them are in agreement of one thing."_

The boy scrunched up his face, not able to guess what Sandy was referring to. It wasn't mentioned at all in the heated discussion earlier.

 _"Despite whatever you choose to do now, you will not be able to stay with the girl forever."_

Jack sighed, hanging his head. "I know."

He felt the small man lift his chin up, making him face him. He realised that Sandy had more to say. " _Tooth thinks you should cut ties with her now, to save yourself the pain and to prevent you from doing something you will regret._ "

The boy made a frustrated whine. "Yes, she never fails to remind me."

" _But North thinks that you should be allowed this-"_ his gestures fumbled slightly as he tried to find the right expression _"-dalliance? Fling?"_

"Can we just call it 'relationship'?"

 _"If you insist."_ Sandy didn't think much of his chosen word. " _North thinks you should be allowed this relationship, simply because he thinks you should have your heart broken."_

He gawked at the small man in disbelief.

" _Now, don't get me wrong,"_ Sandy elucidated. " _He doesn't like it, but he figures that it's better than you've loved and lost then never loved at all, based on his own experiences with his wife. Whereas Tooth thinks, based on her own experiences again, it's better that you never even touch it at all."_

"Really." Jack harrumphed. "Do any of you ever let me make my own decisions?"

 _"Well, do you ever stop grumbling and just figured that the Guardians just want the best for you because they care about you?"_ was the other vampire's pointed rebuke.

Jack pressed his lips together, before finally humming, "Hmm."

 _"I stand with North on this matter, Jack. I think you can handle it. But-"_ his hands grew hesitant _"-don't go into this …relationship thinking that it's going to last forever. Because it's isn't."_

The white-haired lad didn't answer at once, sinking somberly back into his chair. The lid over the pot had started to dance, so Sandy left his seat to tend to it. Jack went to help him – not that he needed any of it.

He bit his lip, then said, "She told that she was only interested in a relationship if it's for keeps. Doesn't do flings, she said."

The older vampire didn't say anything, by speech or by gestures, but a grave look from was enough to convey, " _Boy, you're in a pickle."_

~~~0~~~

The address that Hans had given her led her to a rundown workshop more on the east side of town. It was quite a distance from school, which meant that she had to take quite a number of buses, before another half-hour walk to the destination in mind. She had told Anna that she had gone to meet one of the clinical staff for the blood drive. The truth couldn't be further.

Elsa stepped into the mechanic shop. It wasn't the best maintained place, with grease and water flowing under her shoes and pain peeling from the walls. The air was warm with exhaust, and smelled like it too. Wrinkling her nose, she tiptoed herself passed the parked vehicles, looking for any signs of life.

"Can I help you?"

The voice came from under her, and she shrieked when she saw the helmeted head sticking out from under one of the cars. It was connected to a body lying on a flat board, in which the board had wheels attached below it. Most of that body was currently hidden under the base of the vehicle. The owner of both body and head withdrew the opaque visor of his helmet, allowing her to the see the young face behind it.

Trying to regain her composure, Elsa pulled on her gloves and asked, "Are you Hiro Hamada?"

"Depends on who's asking," came the sly response, with the side of his lip twisting upwards slightly.

She paused a second to consider her response. "Hans told me to come here. Hans Westergaard."

"Oh, that guy." The mechanic clapped his visor back on. "Gimme a moment, won't you?"

He disappeared under the vehicle, and for few moments Elsa heard a loud sizzling noise, with sparkles reflecting off the water. She ducked down, trying to see what he was doing, only for him to suddenly slide out from his spot, making her jump back. He sat himself up on the rolling board that he had been lying on earlier, removing the helmet to reveal a shock of black hair. He leaped to his feet and Elsa was surprised to note that he was a whole head shorter than her. In fact, he looked at younger than Anna.

"This way," he beckoned at her with one of his fingerless-glove-covered hands.

He led her down the cluttered garage to a narrow corridor where all the office rooms were. Most of the these offices however were clearly not in use, being stacked to the rafters with boxes and other odd looking equipment. As they went down the dimly-lit route, it became increasingly clear to her that they were the only ones in the building.

"You are Hiro Hamada, right?" she questioned her host.

He only shot a quizzical smirk at her, before turning himself forward again.

"Because you're a little young to be working, aren't you?" Elsa pressed, frowning more pointedly now. "You can't be the person Hans is talking about."

The boy – he couldn't be more than fourteen, could he? – barked a sharp laugh as he led them to another cluttered garage, only this one had its doors sealed up and its windows plastered with wooden panels. Illumination of their surroundings come from the uncovered skylight cut into the roof. There were no signs of vehicles here, only curious machines laced with decades of rust, long benches covered with suspended vials, wires and dusty devices that ranged from old to weird. This, she realised, was his private workshop.

"Take a seat." Hiro – if she wasn't mistaken – gestured towards a chair that had a yellowed skeleton draped on it. Seeing her flabbergasted expression, he shoved the skeleton onto the ground, allow it to crumple into an undignified seat. "There. Sit."

Elsa did lower herself onto the chair, because clearly he wasn't going to move until he did, but she couldn't help but stare at the pile bones that lay at her feet.

"You know, I kind of expected you to be a guy," she heard the boy say as he crossed the workshop, going to one of the unremarkable store cupboards located there and pulling it open. "I mean, it's called the Van Helsing Brotherhood, right? If there are girls in it, then isn't that kind of sexist? I mean, I don't pretend I know all this-" he waved his hands vaguely "-mystic whatnot stuff works. So, if you girls are fine with it, then what can-"

"I'm not part of this Brotherhood," she interrupted sharply, clearing her throat, "or whatever … society Hans belongs to." It's clear from his little speech that he was not part of organization either. Then what was he?

He paused his rummaging to glance at her. "Oh. That's kind of odd." He pressed his lips together as his hands remove what appeared to be a kettle from the old cupboard. "Can I offer you instant ramen?"

She didn't know quite how to respond to strange offer.

"I'll take that as a no." He kicked the cupboard the door shut before skipping to a nearby sink, where he began to fill his kettle.

Elsa was starting to feel pretty impatient. If she was gone too long, her sister would start to get suspicious. "Look, Hans told me to find Hiro Hamada because Hiro Hamada would give me something that can help."

"Help?" He fitted the kettle in a wall socket, which Elsa realised was quite dangerously close to the sink. He didn't seem to notice as he flicked the switch on. "What kind of help?"

"You know." She sighed. She didn't actually want to say it out loud. It made her feel stupid. "Against vampires."

"Ah. Vampires. Defiers of nature. Cheaters of death." Unless she was mistaken, there was a note of admiration in his voice. Well, it was better than laughing at her, she supposed. "And according to Westergaard, 'the scourge of the earth'."

"There's a group of them in town." She's not sure whether she should trust this strange boy from this strange shop, but she didn't have a choice. This is was unknown territory and she was going against forces of unknown power, of which their victory over her was highly probable. She needed an edge over them if she was going to stand a chance. "I think they may have hurt my sister. I want to make sure that they don't do that again." She bit her lip. "Or to anyone else."

"You have a sister?" Hiro murmured, his voice suddenly quiet. He wasn't clunking around in the shop, or smirking at her. The first time since she had met him, he was actually looking at her intently.

"Yes."

"Just two of you?"

"Pretty much." She thought for a moment. "Well, there's Kai, but he's … he just looks after us."

"Huh." He seemed thoughtful as he picked up a pair of tweezer from a messy worktable. "I had a brother too. Just one." There was a creepy sort of hollowness in his voice. "He died."

"I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say, so she said the thing that people told her when her parents died.

"My parents've been dead for a while. I've got an aunt, but,-" his expression was self-mocking "-we don't talk much."

"Oh." Her sensibility told her to end the conversation there, but curiosity pressed her. "Was your brother, well, killed by-"

"Vampires?" Hiro finished for her. He snickered at that, and suddenly he was back to cocky, self-assured mechanic. "No – haha! – no. He wasn't. Actually, he just died in a fire. That's it. Pretty average, run-in-the-mill kind of death." While his tone was very matter of fact, there was a haunting darkness in his expression, one that the skylight above his workshop couldn't chase away. He rolled his shoulders back, flashing a grin that was far too wide. "Nope." He shook his head. "My only issues with vampires is that they get to live for hundreds and hundreds of years from drinking people's blood while caring, compassionate people like my brother die after nineteen years of his life. NINETEEN!" A crazed expression twisted itself on his face, rapid and almost diseased. Elsa slunk back, eyes wide and quite ready to make a run for it.

But the boy calmed himself down, taking deep breaths as he did. Noting her alarmed countenance, he smiled reassuringly. "I'll get you the equipment now. Just wait here a moment."

Without a word more, he turned on his heel and returned to the storage cupboard, pulling open random drawers and such. That left to her own devices and, as it happened, amidst his devices.

She examined the peculiar contraptions around her, from the blinking clocks to the model bridge to the bronze-coloured amalgamation of a turbine, a catapult and a shoe. Not desiring to keep the collapsed company, Elsa rose from her seat and decided to survey the rest of the room. Piled on each table were numerous other contraptions, some with schematics and sketches accompanying them, and others tangled with wires, tape and plastic.

She noticed that there was one lone table that sat right under the skylight, and it held a curiously-shaped bulge that was obscured by the large white sheet draped over it. When she reached for a corner of the fabric, she heard Hiro call out, "Aha! Here it is!"

The contraption hidden under the white sheet forgotten, Elsa swung about to face the boy. In his triumphant grasp, he displayed a small grey box. He jerked chin towards it. "Let me show you."

She drew up next to him as he removed the lid from the box. There sitting between the styrofoam were two elegant daggers, with slender hilts and blades. Elsa blinked. Of everything she expected to see, this was not it. She reached for them, then paused, glancing at Hiro.

He nodded. "Go ahead."

She lifted the two blades up. They were so thin, so flat. She could slip them under her sleeves and no one know. It was clear that they had been made for the purpose of stealth, rather than display. When she examined them closely, however, she realised that the two daggers were not identical.

"They're made of different materials," she told him, bemused.

"Yes. This one's made-" he pointed at the metallic-looking one "-is made from a silver alloy. As per Hans' specification, the surface is made of an alloy of the highest of silver content, and reinforced with a hard-carbon base behind it. Now that-" he pointed to the one that looked brown "-that's made of mountain ash bark-"

"Bark?" she repeated, puzzled. "This dagger is made of wood?"

"Yes. It's core is reinforced with granite, for weight and strength, but the exterior is all wood. It'd probably last-" Hiro rubbed his chin "-two uses. Maybe three at most."

She stared at him.

He only stared back at her, as if he had guessed her questions. "Don't you know how to kill a vampire?"

Elsa shook her head.

"Well, if I'm not wrong, silver will hurt it – and I mean, like a lot - but the wood of a mountain ash tree-" he tapped the wooden blade "-this is the one that kills. It has to be straight strike to the heart of the beast, of course."

"Of course," she repeated uncertainly, gazing down at the two knives. Part of her was tempted put the weapons back, to turn around and dash home. Pretend that she had never met Hans in the museum nor listened to his ridiculous stories.

But she thought of the shadows that had overturned the family car years ago, and the dark shadow that had feasted on her mother's blood. And she thought of Anna – her poor, innocent Anna – lying a pool of blood, dazed and weak.

Her hands tightened around the two blades.

~~~0~~~

 **Greetings!**

 **As you can tell, there are no recipes in this chapter. To be honest, I'm kind of running out of them. I see the problem that Tasty is running into it. Maybe you guys can mention any of your own favorite dishes, and see there's a way to haemovore-fy it. (Basically, just add blood).**

 **Introducing Hiro Hamada from Big Hero 6. This story is still meant to be focused on ROTG and Frozen, but I couldn't resist bringing in another Disney character. Hiro's more in the vein of Rapunzel and Eugene in this story, with his own backstory and tragedy. But of course, his presence with limited to his involvement in the plot. I'll try not to bring in anymore random characters anymore.**

 **Guest Inbox:**

 **Alene Mask: Well, things got really weird in the vampire city after that…heh. As for what Elsa might say to Jack…I think the problem with these two is that they don't talk enough. Oh, a Star Wars AU? As cool as that would be, I think I love Star Wars itself too to be able to write another fandom into an AU of it. Face it – nothing can quite beat Darth Vader as a character.**

 **TQ: Hehe, you might be on to something. Glad that you enjoy it.**

 **Toolazytologin: Sorry about the crazy timeline. I haven't thought a good way to time mark anymore, now that Jack doesn't write letters to Emma anymore. Ickkk.**

 **Okay. Bye. Review if you like it. *Throws sparkles all around.**


	10. Chapter 10

_Dinuguan (by Bunny)_

 _What You Need:_

 _2 cups of pork, diced_

 _2 cups of pig's blood_

 _1 cup of pig innards_

 _1 onion, roughly chopped_

 _1 tablespoon of cooking oil  
3 tablespoons of vinegar _

_1 green chilli pepper, chopped finely_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)To a hot pan, add oil. Once the oil is heated, add the onions. Fry till transulcent._

 _2)Next, add the pork and innards. Let them cook for a minute by stirred them in._

 _3)Pour in the blood and vinegar._

 _4)Allow the mixture to simmer until it turns thick and black._

 _5)Sprinkle over the chilli in the sili._

 _6)Serve with rice or rice cakes._

 _~~~0~~~_

" _-yet another tragic end of drunk driving?"_

" _I don't think so, Rudy. Her family claims that she never touched a drop of alcohol all her life. Besides, if she had been intoxicated, the accident would have taken place much closer to Corona."_

He scraped the blade along his chin, watching himself in the bathroom mirror as the radio continued to fizzle from the bedroom.

" _Police investigations are ongoing and they've yet to release anything new on the case yet."_

He rinsed off the foam, before proceeding to scrape the blade down along his cheek once again. As he did, he glanced towards the small touchpad balanced against the sink.

" _Could it be related to that 'vampire' attack that happened just last week? The one on the high school girl?"_

The pad happened to be linked up to the four hidden cameras he had placed around the Guardians mansion. He had considered trying to sneak a couple into the giant building itself, but eventually concluded that the risk mightn't be worth it. After all, the Guardians still thought he was dead. He was not one to spoil such an advantage.

" _Who can say for sure? A lot of strange things seem to be happening in Burgess these days. The next you know – we'll be invaded zombies!"_

From his surveillance on their activities, it seemed that they had chosen to dine outside tonight, on the open terrace of the second floor. He watched through the bottom right box on the touchpad as the short, golden-hair vampire laid out the utensils on the table. At the other end of it, two other vampires – one female and the other male – began a heated argument over something, candle-sticks perhaps. He didn't hook any microphones up due to the feedback excessive feedback, so he couldn't tell for sure.

" _Alright, Rudy. That's enough Walking Dead for you. Whatever the cause, drive safe people. To the Dursleys, if you're listening now, know that we here at 'The Evening Song' are with you in this."_

" _Now, to other news-"_

"Ack!" In his distraction, he had accidentally cut himself across his cheek. He could hear muffled laughter coming from behind him and he scowled. Swinging his head back, he shot a dirty look at his prisoner. Her mischievous eyes mocked him, though her gagged mouth could not.

" _-at the Burgess High School Gym. It's a purely student initiative, yet its drawing volunteers from all over the town."_

Covering the bleeding cut with his free hand, Hans turned back to the mirror, glancing down at the videos on his touchpad. There was a cab driving up to the Guardian house, and from it emerged a lithe young woman with blonde hair. It seemed that the Arendelle girl had arrived.

He washed the blood-stained cut under the water, then shifted his hand from the cut. As he had expected, the cut had vanished, just untainted skin. Satisfied, he returned to shaving the rest of his face.

" _We've never had something like this here in Burgess, have we, Rudy?"_

" _Not for as long as I remember. To be honest, I didn't think there were many kids these days interested in any form of community service, but its great to know that we've got teens here so passionate about worthy causes."_

Once this chore was completed, he dried his chin with a small hand towel, watching the surveillance feed as he did.

Elsa was climbing up the porch now. She was carrying a box with her – food, perhaps? Not that vampires could eat human food. If he were a more compassionate soul, Hans would have second thoughts about throwing an innocent human girl into a den of vampires. But, well, being himself, he didn't really care.

" _Are you going down to donate, Rudy? I sure am."_

" _Yep! If you folks out there hadn't caught it before, the Blood Donation Drive is this coming Wednesday at the high school gym. Walk-in registration is available, though registering in advances allows you to jump the queue."_

" _Yep, you could be saving a life here, people, so come on down!"_

In that short period of time that he had 'dated' Anna, he had questioned her extensively on the nature of her sister's relationship with Jack F. Guardian. The girl was however a desert of information, just giggling romantic statements and gushing about how cute a couple the two were. Hans had to force himself _not_ to roll his eyes at her uselessness. Perhaps he should consider going back and finishing her off. Given time, she might actually begin to put two and two together about who attacked her that night.

Throwing the towel carelessly at the sink, he then headed back to the bedroom portion of the motel room. The redhead could feel his prisoner's eyes following him, but there was no harm that could be done with eyes alone, so he didn't care.

" _And the weather for tomorrow will be- oh. Oh. This is just in. Apparently, there's been a missing-person report just filed in for another high school teen."_

" _Another one? Oh, no! Rudy, that sounds horrible! Is it related to the 'vampire' incident?"_

He threw on his shirt, then the gambeson for protection, buckling his belt over it. He tested the comfort of his movements before tying on all the attachments, pouches and straps. He counted the bolts in the quiver before tying it to his waist and fitted the sword back in its scabbard before tying it to his belt. Finally, he picked his black cloak and threw over his shoulders. It was his favorite cloak and he was very thankful that it had survived the skirmish with the vampire three nights earlier.

" _Honestly, her parents say that she likes horse riding in the woods a lot, so usually her 'vanishing' is no unique occurrence. However, apparently her horse came back without her."_

" _Oh, my. She might lying injured somewhere!"_

" _Now, let's not jump to conclusion. The forest rangers say that they can find no trace of her anywhere in the parts of reserve near her home, but there's plenty of places more to search."_

He collapsed his crossbow into a more slender version of itself, much like the way one would collapse a fan, and slipped in the holster under his waist. His touchpad and the rest of his essential belongings he slipped all his haversack, which he swung over his arm.

" _If anyone has any information concerning the whereabouts of Merida Dunbroch, please call the police right away."_

" _With the whole 'vampire' drama that happened last week, it's no doubt that her parents are very-"_

He switched off the radio before approaching his prisoner.

She was seated on the floor, surrounded by a ring of salt that he had drawn around her. A gag had been strapped over her mouth, and iron cuffed her wrists to the water pipe. There was no way she could throw curse his way, and there was no way that she could run. That gave him an odd sense of smugness.

Considering how long he'd been in his line of work, Hans had expected that himself to have gotten over petty needs such as that vengeance. However, getting lynched out of the blue had cost him a kill and set back his plans by several days. With his hard work on Anna Arendelle rendered nearly useless, it was lucky that his quick wit had found a way to twist events to his favour.

But of course, he couldn't help but bear a grudge against the witch that attempted to kill him, and indeed if he were a normal human, she would have succeeded.

She was feisty one, he'd give her that, but after three hours of thrashing about and some … well-earned discipline, she had quietened down. Unfortunately, that meant that she wouldn't say anything at all, and that made things very inconvenient for him.

"I'll be going now," he announced casually to her.

The bruises flecked around her eyes didn't keep her from glaring hatefully through her crimson curls .

Hans was undaunted, continuing conversationally, "You know, this would be a lot easier if you'd just tell me what I want to know. I'm a very reasonable fellow, you'll find."

She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him.

"Come, come, now." He shook his head at her, squatting down to her height. "Your family's worried. Don't you want to go home? I'll let you."

Her lids shot back open, only for her sapphire eyes – a bit too blue for a witch – to narrow themselves at him. She didn't trust him, which was probably a good choice. But still, one that she was going to pay for.

He made a show of sighing as he reached to the shelf near by for the wine bottle sitting. Removing it cork with his teeth, he proceeded to dump its contents on her.

The girl let out a muffled shriek – or at least, she tried to as the red alcohol splattered her clothes and ran down her head. She sent him a bewildered expression.

"It's really simple, if you think about it," his tone was still pleasant and unassuming, almost like one talking about the weather. "You tell me who your magic healer is, or you will die the way millions of your ancestors have." He produced a lighter, flicking it alight. "Pick fast. My hand's getting tired."

~~~0~~~

She's really done up nice tonight.

No, no, don't say that. That made her sound like a mannequin. Or a doll. Or a piece of pastry.

"May I come in?"

It took him a while to notice that she was asking him a question. "Erm, right. Sure, sure, c'mon in."

Jack tried not to gawk at her smooth bare shoulders, nor the slender neck that led up to her pale, but still radiant, countenance. Her white-gold hair was twisted back into regal coronet, with only a few stray ringlets falling next to her ears. The dress she picked this round was surprisingly formal, with tapered ends hugging her knees just right and heeled shoes that allowed her to tower just slightly over him. In all the time they had hung out, she had never put in this much effort.

"When Anna said that you lived in a palace, I didn't think she meant it literally," was her musing out loud as she breathed in the wide rooms, the fancy lights and the ornamented pillars.

Jack let out an uneasy chuckle. "I wouldn't call it a palace, exactly, but I guess it's pretty … big."

"Uh-huh. Oh. I know you technically invited me for dinner, but I just wanted to contribute something." Elsa held up a plastic bag holding a large paper box.

"Oh, nice," he said as he took it from her. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Oh, I didn't. Anna said this place does the food rather wel, thoughl." He noticed that gloves that she had chosen today were long and white, stretching up past her forearms. They were very elegant, though looking a bit tighter than usual.

He glanced down at the dish, catching a whiff of it. Part of him felt that it smelled delicious, but the visceral majority of it balked for some reason. Keeping a straight face, the boy asked, "So, what is it?"

" _Aglio e olio_."

He stiffened up, unable to keep his eyes from darting to her in alarm. Was that a challenge in her gaze?

"Oh, cheer up," was her response, rolling her eyes. "I know you're allergic, but you're folks aren't be right? I mean, you guys aren't even related by blood, so they shouldn't be."

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Being unable to think of what to say, he just waved her forward into the corridor .

The walk together was very awkward – well, Jack felt it was awkward. Elsa seemed perfectly content with feasting her eyes upon the marble walls and the display cabinets, occasionally pitting a question about the ornaments, before quiet reigned once again.

Fortunately, he was finally spared the pain of silence when North appeared around near the stairs, bearing a large grin. "Ah, Elsa!" he greeted the girl jovially. "Welcome to our humble abode!"

"Thank you," the girl beamed back to the large man sincerely, her face lighting up at the sight of him. Seeing that she would be comfortable in Russian-born's presence, Jack suggested that North take her to the dining terrace first while he helped Sandy prepare the food. North was only to happy to do it and hustled the girl gently to the second floor, pointing out the more interesting nick-nacks they had around as he did. Jack was glad that there was someone that he could count on to make her feel comfortable, even if that person did intend for him to have his heart broken.

His shoulder drooped and he groaned. This was going to be hard night alright.

He retreated to the kitchen, where Sandy was already working on plating everything. He was very professional about it, scooping the dishes out into individual plates and setting them all on trays. His head perked up upon hearing Jack's entrance, expression quizzical as he noted Jack's face.

Holding up the Italian takeway, Jack told him, "She brought _Aglio e Olio._ "

Grunting, Sandy took the carrier from Jack's hand and took a sniff at the dish, before shrinking away in disgust. Setting the bag down on the kitchen counter, Sandy signed to him, _"Don't suppose we could 'accidentally' topple it all into the trash?"_

As much as Jack wanted to, he shook his head. "Is there something we can do to it? Something to make it less-" he wrinkled his nose. The smell was surprisingly strong "-potent?"

" _Nothing short of washing all the noodles under water and detergent,"_ was Sandy's wry answer. _"Lots of detergent."_

"Well, that's just great." Jack sank into the chair near the dining table, dropping his face into his hands. "If we don't serve it, she'll think we're rude. But if we do serve it, we can't avoid eating it without it looking weird." Part of him wondered why she had chosen to buy this dish in the first place, anyway. If she really believed that he was allergic to garlic, why would she go out of her way to buy a dish that was drenched in it? Was it some kind of punishment to him in her eyes? Or was there some other reason?

" _We should start losing 'accidentally' it to the trash,"_ Sandy signed, digging into the plastic big and pulling out the paper container. Removing the lid, both himself and Jack winced as the air the kitchen was filled with the pungent aroma of sautéed garlic. Pinching his nose, Sandy made a move to tip the contents of the box into the trash.

"No!" Jack cried out. He knew that the excuse of losing it in the trash would never work on Elsa. They had to come up with a better reason for it. He frowned at the takeaway. "Maybe we can serve it, but get rid of it during the meal when she's not looking."

Sandy deadpanned him.

"I'm serious."

The golden-haired man shook his head as he reluctantly replaced the lid of the container.

~~~0~~~

 _Aglio e Olio (by…who?)_

 _What you need:_

 _1 pound of Spaghetti_

 _3 tablespoons of Olive Oil_

 _8 large Garlic cloves,_

 _1 cup of Parmesan cheese, grated_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _You DON'T._

 _In fact, I'm figuring whoever added this here was planning to poison us. You don't write a recipe for a dish that is literally named 'Garlic and Oil' in Italian inside a book for vampires._

 _I would have ripped this page out of the book, if wasn't for the fact that the recipe for Blood Brownies is on the other side and I love brownies. So…just don't make this, okay?_

~~~0~~~

She wasn't an idiot. She had been watching Jack's expression when she told him about the _aglio e olio_. He had tried to hide it, but her humble offering had had him stumped. To be honest, his reaction could have been merely hurt that she had chosen to bring a dish that she knew he couldn't eat without reacting adversely to. In any other social setting, it would be considered rude. But here, she could convince herself that it was necessary test. After all, if any of Jack's family took a morsel of the dish, then she would know for sure that her suspicion were a temporary madness and there was nothing to worry about.

But if none of them took it, well, that would ring some alarm bells.

"Out here, my dear." North waved her through a glass door. The open terrace was uncovered, setting an elaborate stage for the long central table. Her jaw fell open as she noted how the neatly the plates were aligned with the glasses and napkins. The brass candlesticks standing around the decoration vase gave the whole thing a very classy feel. She was suddenly very glad to have chosen to wear a proper dress instead of the blouse and pleat skirt she had planned on before.

"Elsa, I believe you've met Sandy,-" the small golden-haired man waved cheerfully, with a beam that instantly warmed her heart "-and Bunny-" Jack's tough older brother, who merely grunted at this acknowledgement and leaned nonchalantly back in his chair "-but I believe this is the first time you've met Tooth."

"In person, I'd imagine," a cold voice interjected, and Elsa recognised the small, thin woman with green and yellow hair. Her extraordinary violet eyes scanned the girl critically and Elsa couldn't help but feel that if anyone here who opposed her interaction with Jack, it would be Tooth. Hostility reeking, a slender, olive-skinned hand stretched out to her. "How do you do?"

"Fine," was Elsa's stiff reply as she took the hand of the woman. Almost immediately, Tooth – Jack's elder sister? Or whatever these things called each other – hissed in pain and drew her hand back. It hadn't been intentional, but now she remembered the silver ring that she wore over her glove. The implications of the woman's reaction sent chills down her spine and for an instant, Elsa fought the urge to flee back down the stairs.

The woman with green hair merely rubbed on her palm, as if her behaviour was perfectly normal. Smiling with sickening politeness, she gestured towards the seats. "Won't you sit?"

They all sat around the rectangular table, with an unoccupied seat next to Elsa. Polite conversation about work and school was exchanged - well, it was exchanged with whoever was forthcoming. North was more than happy to share about his work at the local college, even with a few snide remarks about the grading system that made Elsa giggle. Bunny was more close-lipped, and not as cordial as he had been that time when he had given her a lift home. Sandy was not one for talking either, but Elsa found that he was still as warm as a silent person could be. Tooth didn't divulge so much in her own life either, but seemed very interested in needling Elsa about hers. _"Oh, so you're a president of a school society? Charming, but there's only four people in it, so how does that work? "_ And _"Do you have a plan for higher education? Out of state? My, that would be expensive. Are you sure you can afford it?"_ And _"You lost your parents when you were fourteen? Oh, so did I, but I didn't have any siblings after that. You're rather fortunate."_

' _It's not a competition,'_ was what Elsa answered in her mind. Out loud, she said in a careless manner, "I guess I am."

Finally, Jack arrived, pushing a cart that Elsa could only imagine carried the dishes. The white-haired boy was spotting a wide grin as he announced in a fake French accent, " _Ma chere, Mademoiselle._ It's with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. And now-" he waved exaggerated at the table before "-we invite you to relax, let us pull up a chair, as the din-"

"Shut up and serve it already," came Bunny's deadpan interruption.

Jack pouted, folding his arms in manner that was much like that of a four year old. "I wasn't done yet."

"Mate, you ain't a flippin' candelabra. Just put the food down before I throw you off over the palisade."

Tooth's face contorted into a shocked mien. "Bunny!"

"What? At least I'm not going to-" he broke off when his sharp eyes landed back onto Elsa "-oh, right."

The girl was puzzled about this little banter, but decided not to comment as the first dish of the night was set before her.

~~~0~~~

Sandy was an indisputable genius. All the dishes on the table may look the same, but they weren't. From the salads down to the desert, everything single dish that sat before their human guest was designed to be blood-free, while the ones before each of the Guardians were blood-packed. The bits of solid blood or the liquid version were all hidden under the crusts of pie, in the salad, in the soup – even in the bread! But for all Sandy's genius, he could not solve the most alarming addition on the main course plate.

Tooth poked the small pile of noodle that sat next to her salad. "Is this …garlic spaghetti?"

"Yes," Jack piped in hurriedly before anyone else could voice their complaints. He could feel Elsa's eyes upon him as he spoke. "Elsa brought it."

"I know Jack can't eat garlic," the blonde girl gushed in a manner that wasn't very like her. "But I couldn't resist contributing a little something to the meal, especially since you've all been so gracious in hosting me."

He caught the sardonic undertones to her calm reasoning, and he swung around to face her. Throughout most of the dinner, he hadn't even dared to lift his head from the plate. His mind was much too occupied with sorting through the flurry of thoughts and emotions that attacked him. He had allowed North and Tooth to lead the conversation, being too consumed with worry.

Worry about what was going to happen _after_ dinner.

But it appears now that he would have to worry about _now_.

"Well, go on," Elsa egged them on with an innocent face – one that he was no longer deceived by. "Try it. It's genuinely good."

He narrowed his eyes down at her. She must have felt his stare, for she then turned her head to face him, as if challenging him to object. And for the first time, he allowed him to consider that perhaps she was not in the dark as much as he would have preferred her to be. Drat.

"Mmmhmmm!" Their little staring contest was interrupted by North, who had within seconds emptied his plate. He made a show of rubbing his tummy and chuckling heartily. "Well, I must say, that is excellent spaghetti. Yes?"

Jack gawked incredulously at him. His blonde companion too appeared similarly stumped at the unexpected site.

"Well, I'd say it's more on plain side, if I might say so myself," said Tooth. She was dabbing her mouth with the napkin and just like North, most of the spaghetti on her plate was cleared off. She made a critical expression as she chewed – or was that pretense? "Then again, I don't not a big fan of take-out."

Bunny merely let out a loud belch that made everyone on the table jump. He waved his hand in front of him and muttered, "Sorry." Likewise, the _aglio e olio_ on his plate too had been cleared.

Sandy just gave a double thumb-ups. His plate too was cleared.

Elsa was clearly dumbfounded.

"Well,-" Tooth clapped her hands together "-that was just wonderful. It's a pity you're allergic, Jack, or you'd have enjoyed it too."

Still a little surprised and mystified by how easily his fellow vampires had made the garlic-drenched noodles vanish, Jack accidentally knocked his fork over. "Oops," he mumbled as he bent himself over to retrieved the fallen utensil. As he did, he was permitted the sight of the piles of _aglio e olio_ sitting at the foot of the table, where they had been mercilessly discarded.

A bubble of chuckles ran up his chest, but he covered it with a cough as he emerged from under the table. He then noticed that Elsa bore a grave expression as she shoved mouthful after mouthful of her own portion of _aglio e olio_ in her mouth, like one who had thought they had the answers only to be proven wrong. Whatever little scheme she had thought up, it hadn't worked. He couldn't help smirking.

That was, until she started coughing fitfully.

~~~0~~~

 _Blood and Mushroom Soup (by Sandy)_

 _What you need:_

 _4 Cups of any Mushrooms, Sliced and washed_

 _4 Cups of Pork Blood_

 _2 Cups of Chicken Stock_

 _0.5 Cup of White Wine_

 _1 Onion, sliced thinly_

 _1 Cup of Full cream_

 _1 Tablespoon of Melted Butter_

 _1 Sprig of Parsley_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Add butter into a hot pot, then onions._

 _2)Add Mushroom and stir. Leave to cook until most of the liquid produced by the mushroom has evaporated._

 _3)Pour in white wine. Stir mixture until wine reduced by half._

 _4)Pour in stock and blood. Cover pot and allow simmer for 20-30 minutes._

 _5)Switch off flame and allow soup to cool for 15 minutes._

 _6)Transfer to blender and blend till fine pieces. For more chunks, blend at a lower power._

 _7)Pour blended mixture pack into soup. Heat it up again and add parsley._

 _8)Serve with cream and toasted bread._

~~~0~~~

"You okay in there?"

"Yeah, just-" a wave of nausea struck her again and she was forced to clutch the edge of the toilet seat.

She wasn't actually throwing up anything, but her body did try very hard nonetheless. She pinched the bridge of her nose while trying to take deep breaths, attempting to contain the discomfort. She was not one prone to food poisoning, but perhaps the Italian place that she had gotten the _aglio e olio_ from was not exactly on-par with their hygiene practices. Still, it didn't explain why she couldn't be properly sick.

After sitting a while in the Guardians' marble-lined washroom, complete with sparkly lights and gold-coloured taps, the burning sensation in her stomach subsided somewhat. Massaging her tummy lightly in search of any residual pain, she eventually concluded that it had indeed passed and she was now obliged to leave the bathroom and face her worried hosts.

She groaned while dragging a palm down her face. Her worried hosts, which included a certain white-haired, not-boyfriend-but-not-platonic, suspected-vampire-but-insufficient-evidence, really-nice-but-really-secretive, boy.

"Well, Elsa," she murmured to herself as she pushed herself to her feet. "Conceal, don't feel. Don't let it show."

She instinctively searched for a mirror to examine her appearance, only to fine that the grandiose bathroom strangely was missing that. Had a bidet, a spa-sized bath tub and marble tiles, but no mirror. That was… disconcerting.

Undoing the lock, she pulled open the bathroom door to be met with the sight of a very pale Jack. While she was sure that he was concern, she found it oddly pleasing that the concern extended to such.

Oh wait. That was his normal skin tone. Had his complexion always been this deathly shade?

"How you feeling?" he asked, sounding more nervous then he looked. He was also holding a steaming cup, but he had forgotten to explain them until she raised a quizzical brow. "Oh, um, we don't have any medication, so here's some ginger honey tea." He lifted it expectantly at her. "I read about it on the internet, and some websites claim that it helps tummy upset." He pursed his lips together. "Well, other claimed that it caused tummy upset, so I'm not very sure."

"Oh, well, thanks." She took the tea, more for its warmth then its healing. For some reason, she felt rather cold now that the pain had passed and sipping it provided some comfort.

"You wanna sit down or something? You look really white." Pots and kettle. Or more accurately, milk and snow.

"That'd be nice."

He led down the lush corridor, completely oblivious to the rich décor that surrounded his every step. As much as Elsa would have loved to soak in all the sights, part of her was feeling strange after the whole 'food poisoning' thing and the last thing she wanted was to faint in the middle of a giant, mysterious mansion.

The dinner itself had not gone as she had planned. The _aglio e olio_ test had backfired after all, but she was still not ready to dismiss the notion that the Guardians were indeed a race of mystical immortals that feasted on the blood of humans. So perhaps they did consume the garlicky noodles without any issues, but it didn't negate the possibility of them being more than they seemed - and trust me, they already seemed to be the weirdest miss-mash of a family she had ever seen.

"Um." Snapping out of her thoughts, she noticed that Jack was waving her into one of the smaller rooms. He appeared a little uneasy. "You can sit in here. I guess."

She stepped into the room and was taken aback by how plain it was. The walls were painted a cheap white, now yellowed with age, and the floor was boarded with a greying wood. There were no classy sculpture or ancient relics lying around, just posters tacked haphazardly to the cupboards, post-its littered around the walls, books strewn over the table and shoes under the bed.

And she realised that everything in here screamed _teenager_.

"So, um, Elsa, this is my room," Jack stated in a painfully awkward manner. "And room, this is my – um – nevermind." She could hear him berating himself behind her as he kicked one of the strewn shoes away.

As she circled the place, mug balanced in her hand, it struck Elsa that bringing her here was a deliberate move on his part, and this was also the first time that he was allowing her to see something that was really personal to himself – not of his family, just him.

"You like Celine Dion," she remarked when she noted square poster pinned near the photo frame.

"She's a good singer," was his defense. "Generally easy on sensitive ears."

Elsa now turned her attention to the photos. Almost all of them were of himself and the Guardians, some in full force and others with just one or two of them. They were mostly in the great outdoors at different seasons. As odd a motley crew they seemed, they really did look like family. He might have never admitted loud, but the Guardians were a huge part of Jack's life.

And that meant that if they were really vampires, exempting him from guilt would prove difficult.

"Who are you closest to?"

Jack paused his self-hate tirade to raise his head. "What?"

"Out of the Guardians." The girl gestured towards the framed pictures. "Who are you closest to?"

"Well,-" he scratched his head "-it would depend what. I mean, Tooth and I are nothing alike, but she dotes on me. Generally." There was hesitation in his voice, but she didn't have the chance to inquire on it before he went on. "North's the easiest to talk to, but Bunny's always good for banter. Sandy doesn't say much, but he has this effect about him … aura, I guess? Whatever, being around him is always calming."

"But who do you tell everything to?" Elsa wasn't really sure why she asked it. It was hardly vital information, but something in her just wanted to know. "Like, well, who would you call your best friend amongst them?"

Jack eyed her with astonishment, as if she had just asked him if he had ever considered that the world might be neither flat nor round but pyramidal. "Well, I – well, I mean, the Guardians are family and stuff, but we're not – I mean – I-" unconsciously, he began wringing his finger against each other "-I tell North a lot of stuff, but I don't share everything. I mean, none of us really share everything." Jack let out a short laugh as she sat himself on the edge of his bed. "I don't know what Bunny does half the time, and the others have their own friends that I don't know much about. I mean, we're lookout for each other, but-" he shrugged "-we're not that big on full disclosure, I guess."

"Like Anna and I, then?" she noted, a subtle sting hidden under the innocuous statement. She didn't forget the last time he brought that up on their impromptu date.

The white-haired lad shot her a wry look. "Hey, that's because we're grownups. Grownups live independent lives."

"Except you." This comment made him confused, if his expression was anything to go by. So Elsa explained as she sat herself next to him, "I mean, you're still in high school, so you're not quite a grown-up yet."

He considered this with far more seriousness than she expected. "I guess not," he said at last, shoulders slumping. "I'm not very good at living independently. I mean, even when I had to live apart from my sist-" Jack stopped short, realising that he had said far more than he had intended to.

Elsa considered pressing the issue, but decided not to ask, no matter how much she wanted to know the circumstances that led to his estrangement with his sister, and prior to her passing too.

"When I had to live apart from my sister," he continued after clearing his throat, "we still relied a good deal on each other – at least, I relied on her. Her letters were everything to me. _She_ was everything to me." The girl watched him swallow as he hunched forward, and sympathy swelled in her as she heard the sorrow in his voice, "When I lost her, I think part of my world just, well, broke. The Guardians are good to me, but they can't-" he pressed his lips together brief "-they can't fill all the gaps."

All her life, Elsa had never been the one who comforted. She wasn't the time that could whip up inspiration speeches or soothing statements in seconds, even her heart . Her words were always direct, and sometimes harsh. So she said nothing when she pried open his clenched, thin fist and slipped her gloved hand into his – the one without the silver ring.

He didn't say anything back, just tighten his grip of hers. She could feel him trembling.

They just sat like that for a while, in a sombre, yet oddly peaceful silence. The ticking clock on the wall was the only sound that was made, until Jack spoke, barely a whisper and looking pointedly at floor, "So, what do you want me to tell you first?"

She was taken aback by his chosen method of starting a topic, but then again, she had only accept the offer of dinner on the condition of getting answers.

AElsa quickly rummaged through her mind the various questions that she had compiled over time. _Why did you run away that night when Anna was hurt? What's the reason that you didn't answer any of my calls? Don't laugh at this, but are you a vampire? If so, what is the extent to which you're involved with what happened to Anna?_ But she found that all these questions, while pertinent, were not questions that she really wanted to ask as much as - "Jack, do you like me?"

The hurt etched on his countenance was just enough to make her feel guilty. "Of course."

Steeling herself, Elsa lay out the only appropriate follow-up. "Why?"

He hesitated, and her heart sank. He was going to avoid the question again, wasn't he?

But then he shifted himself towards her such that their knees bumped against each other. He removed the mug of ginger tea from her hand and set it on the bedside table, before he took her gloved hands into his own. Immediately, she was reminded that Valentine's night that had started and ended so wrong, but yet still had something sweet in the middle. Something that she didn't quite understand, but that she wanted – _craved_ even.

He stared down at their joined hands as his thumbs massaged her knuckles, saying cautiously, "Have you ever, well, like, seen something that other people had and want it for yourself so badly that it hurts?"

She had ever wished that she had Anna's sunny optimism and her propensity. That she didn't have such awful nightmares and fears. That she had her parents back. "I guess so."

"Yeah, well." He chewed on his lip so hard she was surprised it hadn't started bleeding. "I do. For a lot of things- like having siblings, or beach days, or even enjoying the taste of garlic. But, well, I don't know, if I could pick just one, I'd like to-" his fumbling tone shifted abruptly into something more subdued "-fall in love."

She blinked.

"I'm not in love with you!" Jack hastily clarified, only to realise how terrible that sounded. "I mean, not that I would mind being in love with you. Well, not that I'm nonchalant to whole idea of love that it's just a matter of 'mind' and 'not mind'. Because I take it very _seriously_ – I take relationships, and its associated notions, _very seriously-"_

She deadpanned him.

"What I mean is." He let go of her hands to scratch his neck nervously. "I'd like fall in love, I guess. I mean, they say it's wonderful, and all that."

"So-" Elsa wrinkled her forehead, trying to process all that had been said "-you like me because you want to fall in love with me?"

Jack pulled a face. "Well, I suppose, it's something like that."

"Well, why me then? Why not the dozens of other girls out there?" It was quite well-known that Jack F. Guardian was one of the most attractive boys in school, and she was sure he was quite aware of it.

"Well, you're pretty."

Her expression spelled out in no uncertain terms _'Really?'_

"And smart. Like way smarter than me." He rubbed his jaw as he thought further. "And passionate."

"Passionate?" she repeated, disbelieving.

"I've never seen someone so determined in running a school society that has only as four people in it," he told her with such a straight face that she couldn't even tell if he _wasn't_ joking. "Also, you're pretty brave."

That was a statement that caught the blonde girl by surprise and she said deprecatingly, "That I'm definitely not."

"Even when everyone doubted your story about what happened to your parents, you still trusted yourself and stuck to your version. If that isn't courage, I don't know what is."

But she didn't trust herself. In fact, these days, she wondered if she was really going off the deep end, with all these weird nightmares and waking up in cold sweat. Elsa wondered whether he would still find her appealing he knew what she was going through.

"Look, Elsa." He looked her properly in the eye now. Everything in his posture screamed uncertainty, yet at the same time sincerity. "If I named every reason I found appealing about you, we'd probably take all night, and honestly, half of them aren't logical. But if I had to summarise it - to pick _just_ one-" he let out a deep breath "Well, if to truly live is to truly love, then maybe I am already falling in love, because with you," for some reason, his voice fell several decibels and she leaned closer so that she could hear him say "-I feel _alive_. Does that make any sense?"

She didn't know how exactly to respond to his odd answer, and she could tell from his appearance that he didn't either. Because honestly, he didn't really make sense at all. Yet, that was a part of her that sort of understood.

It was profoundly unfair, she supposed, that a member of male species could possess such alluring eyes, holding the possible every shade of a summer's sky within them. But it was also profoundly unfair that that such eyes hold such a weighty sorrow, thick with remorse and bitterness and fear, tied together by an emotion that she knew to well herself.

 _Loneliness_.

At some point of his young life, he had been forced to face a profound loss – one that stripped away everything he had known and had once been. He had been forced to adapt to circumstances to survive, but in needing to survive, he could not thrive. It was as he had been frozen in that moment, that horrible moment, for a long time, and though externally he showed few signs, the vacuum from loss was eating him from the inside. She knew this, because she had been, or maybe still was, plagued by it too.

Somewhere down in her, Elsa felt a visceral need to chase away this viscous plague that had afflicted her, and afflicted him too. So with an urgency that she didn't quite understand, she surged forward, pressing her lips against his.

The microsecond they made contact, she knew that it was different from that first ones four days ago. Those were chaste, cheeky, with the innocent of a first time exploration. But now, the exchange was desperate, and not just from her side.

If there was an shyness on his part, it melted quickly away as Jack pushed hungrily back against her. The melding of mouths was aided by hands that grabbed against the other's form, seeking to steady themselves from the overwhelming sensations rising between them, unaware that this only served to disorient them further.

She was unaware of exactly how it happened, but in the midst of the frantic lip-lock, their position had turned horizontal across the mattress. When she finally pulled herself away for air, she realised that her coronet had come undone and was now trapped in a painful snag between her head and the pillow. The boy hovering over her noticed her discomfort and gently reached behind her to pull the fizzled braid free, laying it down carefully on sheet as if it was glass.

His attention then returned to her. A shaking hand reached towards her face, and she felt its cold tips brush against her forehead as they moved the stray strands out of her eyes, allowing him an unhindered view of them. Elsa found her heart pounding rapidly as she stared up into those brilliant azure orbs, so full of admiration and longing. In the back of her head, she knew that she shouldn't be doing this – whatever it was - not with a boy that she scarcely knew and certainly not on his bed with his relatives around the corner.

But at the same time, she wanted to drown in the flurry of feelings shared between them. She didn't want to worry about her nightmares, or about Anna and her at-large assailant, or about Hans and the horrible ideas that he had introduced to her. She wanted it to be just them. Just them, together.

"Elsa?" The beautiful boy above her seemed concerned by her silence, or maybe he was just concerned altogether. His hand had reached for one of her gloved ones and brought it to his face, planting a kiss on the back of it in manner that was oddly gentlemanly considering their position. She could see that he was conflicted, and the selfish part inside her wanted that conflict to be squashed lest he do something undesirable because of it.

So she freed her hand from his hold and used to cup face, bringing hi, down towards her.

Yearning filled his gaze, but there was still doubt in his voice. "Elsa, I think-"

"Jack," she interrupted him softly, but firmly. "I like you too."

His jaw fell in surprise. "What?"

"You frustrate me," the blonde girl admitted. "And you're sometimes pretty irritating, but I do like-"

She didn't get to finish, because Jack shoved his mouth forcefully against hers, stealing any words from her tongue. His hands dove into her hair, not caring how his fingers were undoing whatever was left of her braid and his body pressed down against hers. In the haze of sensation, she found herself not caring as she wrapped her arms around his torso, trying to bring him as close to her as possible.

"Elsa," he breathed against her lips when he pulled briefly away, only to peck a kiss there again. "Elsa." And again, as if he couldn't bear to be parted from her for longer than a breath. "Might I-? Please…"

She didn't know exactly what he was pleading of her, but she was no longer in frame of mind to refuse. "Yes."

The blonde girl felt him reach up to press a kiss against the tip of her ear ever so lightly, then below it, then further along her jaw. She closed her eyes, relaxing into the unfamiliar, yet pleasing tingling along her skin. Her arms came to cradling the back his head, stroking his white locks in encouragement. She almost fainted at the sensation of him nibbling her along her neck.

And then abruptly, she felt his lip leave her and his form torn out of her arms. Elsa's eyes shot open when she heard Jack's pained cry and she bolted upright, still panting heavily from the vestiges of their sensual experiment.

Standing next to the bed, holding Jack by the scruff of his collar, was his very infuriated elder sister.

When the reality of the situation hit Elsa full force, she flushed brightly crimson. "This isn't-"

"Your fault?" Tooth cut in bitingly. "It probably isn't." She narrowed her eyes down on Jack, who tried to shrink away from her, but her grip on him was too firm. Turning briefly back to Elsa, she said, "Excuse us."

And then she dragged the boy forcefully out of the room, paying no mind to his protests.

Left alone, the girl sitting on the bed curled herself slowly up in a ball. As the thrill of the moment began to fade, reason was back and it did not faint a pretty picture.

She ran a finger over her swollen lip as horror filled in her. Did she just – but – she didn't do flings! This kind of foolishness was more along Anna's alley. And yet, she had lost control. Willingly. She had allowed emotions to lead, and because of that, they might have – they could have – if they hadn't been -

Her hand shot up to her neck and her eyes widened. All that Hans told her just a day ago came to mind. Could Jack had been trying to – no, he had just been caught up in the moment, like she was. It was just hormones – stupid teenage hormones.

She needed to get out of here. Yes, she did.

But first, she was going to find some answers.

~~~0~~~

"You-" expletive, expletive, expletive "-how could you-" expletive, expletive, expletive "don't you realise that-" expletive, expletive, expletive "-why-"

In all his time with her, Jack had never heard Tooth swear this much. In fact, he wasn't even sure if Tooth _could_ swear.

Well, apparently she could. Case closed there.

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog that was in his mind. The details were still a bit of a blur to him, honestly. After Elsa had told him that she liked him back, the cord of restraint in him had snapped. In all their time together, he had been wondering what the attraction was one-sided. Well, it had certainly started that way, but he had begun to fear that it would remain so. But clearly those fears were unfounded, for he must have somehow won over her somewhere along the way. So, maybe he did get a bit carried away with kissing her (on his bed. Wow. If his mother was watching this from above, that would be awkward), but she liked him back and that was-

 _Smack!_ A flare of pain seared itself across his face. "Ow!"

"Listen when I talk to you!" Tooth screeched at him, her shrill voice becoming impossibly more shrill. "Do you know what you almost did?"

His face scrunched itself up as he tried to collect his thoughts. "Um-"

She clutched him by the shoulders, fingers digging so deep into his joints that he had no choice but to look up at her and her blazing violet eyes. "Do you?"

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again. "It was just kissing."

"Really?" Her voice was full of fury. "Really, Jack, _really_?"

"Nothing else was going to happen," he insisted.

She narrowed her gazed down at him, opening up a pitch of discomfort in his stomach. In a very low voice, Tooth told him, "I want you to think back very carefully, and tell me honestly that nothing was going to happen."

The stubborn defense was on the tip of his tongue, but then he paused the recollection of the hazy events, and as he did, his own boldness surprised him. He generally tried to be a gentleman, respectable distance on all that, and maybe the intimacy of their proximity had been a bit much considering how short their relationship – if it existed at all – was. But she had been so lovely wrapped in his arms, her skin so smooth and her form so shapely, her scent sinfully alluring and her lips so addictive. How could he help craving the warmth of her flesh and the taste of her blood on –

Jack sobered up instantly. _Oh._

He lifted his head sharply, aghast at himself. "But-but- I didn't mean, I didn't want, I mean-" he tore himself away from the smaller woman, rubbing his forehead "-I didn't want to feed on her. I mean, I'm full. I'm definitely full. We just had dinner." He rocked himself back and forth on his heels, frowning. "Besides, feeding's usually a lot more violent, isn't it? So it can't be that I was going to feed on her. It'd be impossible." He gazed hopefully at her for reassurance.

Tooth sighed, some of her anger fading away. "Oh, Jack." She tenderly caressed the side of his face, which was still smarting a little from her blow. Her own face was full of sadness, which he didn't quite understand. "I suppose it was naïve to assume that simply because you didn't know the mechanics of it meant that you were incapable of it."

He was utterly bewildered. "What?"

"The baptism of blood."

Just the title of it was sufficient to send a chill down his spine. "But, I-I wouldn't-"

"In the thick of emotions, Jack, you wouldn't care. It's programmed too deeply into our biology." He turned his head from her, but she insisted on follow him and looking at him in the eyes. "Perhaps we should have warned you."

The boy was puzzled. As long as he could remember, Tooth had been warning him. She was always going on about the dangers of being attracted to mortals – not even being relationships, just attracted. There was little that she hadn't warned him of. Right?

"Usually, in the baptism of blood, the victim is incapable of resist the vampire, because the vampire has already placed the victim under trance. I'm not sure of the mechanics of it, but it's real. Trust me – I would know." Her expression darkened. "Under a strong enough trance, the victim would be utterly cooperative with the vampire, doing whatever the vampire wants them to do. They might even die smiling, and after they die – ha! After they die…" she barked out an ominous laugh, before cocking her head at him, all back to seriousness. "Do you understand, Jack?"

His face was blank as he digested this new information. He had always known that vampires had some way of luring their prey, but he attributed it to how attractive vampires were in general. He didn't realise that there was some innate ability already buried in his physiology that could apparently summoned without his notice. And then it struck him that while he was most certainly attracted Elsa, her reception of him had never been so warm until they made physical contact. And that could mean that-

"Wait." He shook his head, trying to straighten out his thoughts. "So are you saying that I might be just seducing her against her own will?"

Tooth nodded gravely.

"But that would mean-" it was as if she slapped him again, and this time he sunk into the nearest chair he could find "-that she just reflecting what I want her to do?" The horror was so gripping that his arms began to tremble. "That she doesn't actually like me herself?"

She hesitated, but he already knew the answer.

Jack buried his face in his hands and groaned. As much as he hated it, it made sense. It made sense why Elsa was suddenly so nice to him after he kissed her, or how easily she lost control herself around him when he got emotional, because all this while, it had never really been her. It was just him, making her do what he wanted to do. He was no better than those vampires back in the old Necropolis who bought of human slaves for their pleasures. He roughly ran a hand through his hair as an epiphany dawned in him. This 'trance' that Tooth talked about was probably how those vampires controlled their slaves.

"Ask yourself honestly, Jack – if she did become a vampire, how much would you grieve?"

A little at first, because he knew the burdens of being a vampire, the extreme highs that came from feeding and the gnawing guilt that came after. He knew the frustration of losing control, the fears of falling into primeval behavior and thought and the enslavement by appetite. He knew the pain of never growing old, watching everything and everyone around him age and change and pass away without being able to follow. He wouldn't wish that on anyone, and certainly not a girl as wonderful as Elsa.

Yet a selfish part deep down in him knew that if she did become a vampire, there would be no need for secrets between them. No need for filtered conversations and tensed silences. There would be no reason why they couldn't be together anymore.

And wanting that frightened him.

"You can't see her again. For her sake, and for yours."

He didn't say anything, but somewhere deep in him, he supposed that Tooth was right. How he hated that she was right.

Before he could answer her, another voice interrupted, "Your girlfriend is one hell of maniac, ain't she?"

Both himself and Tooth swung their heads towards Bunny, who was leaning against the doorframe. Just as Jack was about to correct him that no, Elsa wasn't his girlfriend – and will now never, ever be – when he noticed how the older fellow was literally clutching onto the frame for support with one hand, while the other was pressed against a crimson patch along his abdomen, hands stained with his own blood. His gaze was unfocused as he slurred out sarcastically, "You sure know pick 'em."

And that's when his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground.

~~~0~~~

 _Manti – Turkish Dumplings (by North)_

 _What you need:_

 _Dough ingredients:_

 _2 cups of All-purpose flour (plus a little extra for rolling)_

 _1 egg, beaten_

 _1/4 cup of water_

 _2 tablespoons of olive oil_

 _1 tablespoon of sea salt_

 _For the filling:_

 _2 cups of ground beef_

 _1 cup of blood tofu, minced_

 _1 onion, very finely chopped_

 _Salt and black pepper to taste_

 _For the yoghurt blood sauce:_

 _1 cups of uncoagulated fresh pork blood_

 _1 cup of Greek yoghurt_

 _1 sprig of Parsley, fined chopped_

 _Salt to taste_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Preheat your oven._

 _2)To make the dough, sift flour and salt into bowl. Pour in beaten egg and mix well with hands, pour water in gradually._

 _3)Pour in olive oil and knead further for 6-8 minutes, until the texture of dough is smooth and easy to stretch._

 _4)Cover in cling wrap and allow to rest for half-an-hour in fridge_

 _5)While waiting, prepare filling. In a mixing bowl, add the ground beef, blood tofu and onion. Mix well, and season._

 _6)In another bowl, prepare yoghurt sauce. Add Pork blood to Greek Yoghurt and whisk well. Add Parsley._

 _7)Remove dough from fridge and roll dough out into a thin sheet._

 _8)Cut sheet into squares of around 1 inch long._

 _9)Spoon a little filling into eat square, and fold up edges of the dough sheet. Repeat till all the filling or dough is used up._

 _10)Line up manti dumplings on a tray covered with a baking sheet, and put in oven 10minutes, over until the manti turn golden brown on outside. Removed from oven._

 _11)In a pot, boil water and add manti dumplings. Cook for 10 minutes._

 _12)Drain manti from water and drizzle olive oil to prevent sticky._

 _13)Serve with yoghurt blood sauce._

~~~0~~~

Why, of all times, did have to rain now?

She was soaked down the skin, barefoot and dashing down the dark, desolate roads all her own. She constantly shot glances behind her, searching the shadows for any sign of pursuers. Her breaths came rapid and hard, in time to the rapid thudding behind her rib cage. Her muscle burned her and her soles hurt, but she couldn't stop.

To her chest, she pressed the thick leather book. The one that she had found in the mansion kitchen.

She hadn't been sure what she had expected when she stepped into the kitchen at the time. It was slightly larger and better stocked than the average kitchen, but other than that, it was perfectly ordinary looking.

Except, there had been a certain smell in the air. A smell that had been both appealing and revolting.

She had discovered its source had been the fridge, which at first appeared to be quite ordinary, until she had realised how much red it contained. Red liquids. Red tofu-like substances. But really, the jackpot had been the freezer. It had been packed to the brim with frozen blood. Sealed, labelled and marked.

She had kicked that door shut as quick as she could, cringing as the scent of iron filled her nostrils. Her hurried slam had been much harder than she had desired, sending tremours through the rest of the kitchen, causing one of the cupboard doors to swing open slightly. In that small gap, she had spotted the leather cover and her curiosity had been piqued.

She had hurried over to cupboard and pulled the door open, before removing the dusty book from its place amongst the spice shakers. There was no title on the front, she had flipped it open. Scrawled by hand on the first page was ' _The Immortal Haemovore's Guide to Nutritious Human-styled Cuisine'._

 _Haemovore._ What that even a real word?

She had browsed through the book and found that they were filled with recipes. Some were in English, but others certainly weren't. Some of them didn't even look they were written by pen. The pages were yellowed and brittle, with a good deal of them patched back with glue. The bindings felt worn, which indicated that the book was used often. As she had got further down in the book, she realised the writing style became simpler, resembling the modern script. All the recipes here on out were in English, complete with footnotes and measurements, but still hand-written. Each recipe was signed off by the person who wrote it, and as she flipped the papers, she realised one thing in common ingredient every single recipe had.

 _Blood._

"What are you doing here?"

She had jumped in her alarm, slamming the book shut.

Standing at the door with a cup of ice tea had been Jack's older brother, Bunny, and he had not looked pleased.

"I was, um-" she had tried to hide the book behind her, but it had already been too late.

His expression had been grim as he set his glass of tea down on the table. "Give me that book."

Technically, there had been no reason why she shouldn't. It wasn't hers, and it did belong to the Guardians.

Except … that it was proof. It was physical, tangible proof that she hadn't been crazy when she had seen grinning, fanged faces kill her parents. That she hadn't been crazy to hear Hans' unbelievable story and believe it.

He had noticed how her fingers curled protectively around the corners of the book, so the tall tattooed man advanced her way, jaw set as he repeated himself, "Give me the book."

And it had occurred to her that if anyone amongst the Guardians had been in the best position to attack Anna on Valentine's night, it would be E. A. Bunnymund. He had given her a lift home before, so he had known where they lived. And maybe that's why Jack ran away that night. Maybe because he knew precisely who was responsible for the attack on Anna, but he didn't want to be put in a situation where he had to choose between telling her the truth and protecting someone he considered family.

When the large, muscular fellow grabbed her by her arm – maybe to force the book from her hand, or worse – she rapidly reached for the one of the knives that she had concealed behind her dress and plunged it at him.

He had let out a gasp when he had let her go, staring at her incredulously, then down at the dagger protruding out his stomach. Elsa had wasted no time then, shoving him back and fleeing the kitchen. She had known that she need to stab the second knife – the wooden knife – into his heart if she wanted to finish the job, but she hadn't wanted to take the risk. She had hugged the book to her chest and headed straight for the exit of the mansion.

Which led to her predicament now. She had stripped off her heels earlier on while running, but now that it was clear that no one was following her and her feet was starting to blister, Elsa regretted tossing those sandals away. They mightn't have been the most comfortable footwear, but they would have been kinder to her soles than wet gravel.

It continued to shower heavily overhead, and she was starting to wonder if she should have tried to call for a cab instead of running off in the dark. Well, she had stabbed a vampire in the stomach, so clearly fleeing for her life gave her little room for rational thought.

 _Oh Lord._ She grabbed her head with both her hands. She had actually stabbed a person. If Bunny had been human – if he _was_ human, and this whole craziness 'vampire' thing was just an elaborate hoax, he would be dead.

Then again, maybe even if he was a vampire, the knife might still kill him anyway, if it really was as special as Hiro claimed. And she would be a killer. A murderer. Just because she had jumped to crazy conclusions.

And Jack would hate her. Like it or not, Bunny was still his family.

Her steps slowed to halt. Of all the things she did regret tonight, confessing her feelings was not one of them. What she told him was true – he did frustrate and annoy her, but she had grown to like him. She supposed it was only natural to start falling for someone who pursued her with such devotion.

It was then that she realised that the rain had stopped splatting down on her head. It didn't make any sense, because she could see that it was still pouring cats and dogs all around her. Glancing up, she saw a large black umbrella sheltered her from the storm. Turning around, she found herself gazing up at the tall, thin figure that was holding it.

"A lovely young woman like you shouldn't be out at this time of the night, and even less in this weather." He was certainly several years older than – probably at least ten, or fifteen – but he could be considered quite striking nonetheless, almost handsome. His choice of clothing was black like his umbrella, but the monotone worked well against the paleness of his skin and darkness of his own hair. "Perhaps I might escort you next destination?"

A polite refusal was on her tongue, but she gazed down at her soaked form and the dripping book in her arms. Sighing, she accepted the offer with a nod.

"Excellent." His accent was foreign – British, perhaps? "But before we get to that, would you mind holding this for a moment?" His head inclined towards the umbrella.

She took hold of the umbrella for the moment as he tore off his trench coat. It was one of those thick, velvety one that people usually didn't wear this time of the year. Then again, it suited this weather perfect. To her surprise, the stranger draped the coat over her wet shoulders, fastening the second button to secure it from falling off.

"Much better." A small, lopsided smile briefly appeared as he took the umbrella back from her. "Now, forgive me for my poor direction sense, but which way should we be going?"

~~~0~~~

 **This chapter is possibly the most important one I've written so far. The Immortal Haemovore's Cookbook is an actual book in the story, and its contents have consequences.**

 **Also, I've never written such a long kissing scene in my life. As a person who still cringes when she watches kissing on TV (including in Disney movies...weird, yeah), that was an … interesting task.**

 **Time to go back to writing violent fight scenes.**

 **Thank you all your lovely people who shared with me food ideas, especially snowfire12345 who gave me entire recipe for Dinuguan. I did change up some of ingredients though based on other recipes I saw online, and what I figured the Guardians would have access to. Also, I've been cooking a lot this week plus watching a lot of Masterchef, so what can I say? I'm inspired.**

 **Oh, on Hans' capture of Merida – the part of surrounding her with salt and binding her in iron are the weakness of witches in this story. According to old European superstition, by right, a witch should also just be repelled by Mountain-ash wood and Garlic as vampire, but in this story, we're just going to let vampires and witches have separate weaknesses.**

' **Baptism of Blood' – the term is from the original Dracula book. My version on it will be just slightly different.**

 **Guest Review Mailbox:**

 **Tq (Sep12): There, there. We all hate Hans. (Well, for me, it's sort of love-hate-smack-forehead). It's okay.**

 **Alene Mask (Sep15): Yep, Jack's choice to join the Guardians was…never really his own choice actually. Which kind of spells out some problems. Also, Elsa and Jack's relationship had improved marginally only to smashed to smithereens. As for Star Wars, … I actually like of it. I don't like an individual movie – because, I'm ashamed to admit, I almost fell asleep watching 'A New Hope' once. But I just love the franchise on whole. What I love best are the characters (especially DARTH VADER), the worlds, Force and associated lore, the space battles and fight scenes. Not really so much the storyline, though having some is a plus. I have a soft spot for the prequels, though I admit they … kind weirdly wooden at places, but it has its moments, especially since my second favorite character is Obi-wan Kenobi, and you don't get to see him much in the original three. (Also, that's why I quite like The Clone Wars series.) My favorite movie is probably Revenge of the Sith, actually. I like sad stuff. As for Kylo Ren, he's a whiny punk, but he's got a lot of plot potential for the future show, so here's to hoping. As for Rey … well, John William wrote her an awesome theme that I'm addicted, so I'm rooting for her.**

 **I would love reviews, but to be honest, I won't die without them. Please, I'm still breathing, I have food and water - hallelujah! But I would love to hear your thoughts nonetheless.**

 **Ciao!**


	11. Chapter 11

She rapped her fist on the bathroom door. "THERE'S DINNER DOWNSTAIRS!"

"THANKS!" came the response from bathroom.

He had had a long day, and he had only gotten off work when it was already well into the night. Not that it really mattered, he had told her many times before. He didn't get tired the way she did. But she knew that he meant that in terms of physical tiredness. Mental fatigue was something no one was immune to, not even the undead.

Rapunzel picked up the clothes that he had scattered outside the bathroom door, deciding that this round she would leave off the scolding up his poor treatment of his attire. The truth was they were going to outlive these clothes any day, so maintaining them was quite pointless really. There had been a time when Eugene had been a lot more careful with his garments, but that had also been a time when he believed that his garments would actually out last him. In case you were wondering, well, they didn't.

After tossing the clothes into the laundry basket, she cast a glance towards the clock. It was almost time, so she headed towards the fridge to retrieve the relevant instruments and containers. Kicking the door shut with her foot, but careful not to trip over her hair, she then marched back to the bedroom. In the backdrop, she could hear the shower pattering down from the bathroom just two doors down, and made a mental note to check on the water bill. Even if his care for his clothes had worn down over the years, Eugene still enjoyed the luxury of long, hot bath far too much.

Setting aside thoughts about her husband's lack of frugality, Rapunzel turned her attention to the small vial and the syringe that she had set on the table. Setting the vial on the table, she unwrapped the syringe from the packet before screwing on its matching needle. She then uncapped the needle and jabbed it into the vial, sucking up every drop of the green liquid into the syringe. She then removed the needles from the vial and held the syringe upright, with the needle pointing up at the ceiling. Flicking her finger against the vial and pushing the remaining bubbles out, Rapunzel then rolled up the hem of her shirt to expose her abdomen. Pinching it, she about to inject the needle in when the phone on her table began to ring.

She hesitated. Hygienic procedure demanded that she complete the injection first, since waiting longer would expose the needle to more germs. But she knew in her case, germs would hardly have mattered.

Knowing full well that she would be disqualified in a medical exam if she did this, Rapunzel recapped the needle and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

" _Is this Dr. Fitzherbert?"_

She recognized it once. "Jack? Jack Guardian? What's wrong? Did the dressing bleed through?"

" _No, no,"_ the boy across the line answered hurriedly. " _I'm fine, but, but-"_ she could hear him breathing hard and fast. If he were human, she'd be a lot more worried, but as it was, the amount of air he sucked in was really insignificant to his health _"-someone in my family is injured. Like, it's quite bad."_

She frowned. In her time that Jack had resided under her care, she had come to realise that he always called his coven his family. The fact that he didn't bother to edit his speech meant that this was fairly serious. She got to her feet, flying out of the room with golden locks trailing behind her. She headed straight to the medical cabinet in the storeroom, where she kept some of the supplies for the clinic. "Tell me what happened."

" _Um, it's really long-"_

She undid the lock and the doors on the cabinet sprung open. "Summarise."

" _Well, he's been stabbed."_

"Where? With what?" Rapunzel reached for a plastic bag and began pack anything she figured she would need. A mere first aid kit wasn't going to suffice in this case.

" _A silver knife. We've taken it out and tried to clog the wound with a cloth-"_

"You REMOVED it?"

He sounded puzzled. _"Well, the wound can't heal with inside, can it?"_

She let out a long sigh, forcing herself not to smack her forehead. Instead, she added a few surgical sets in her bag and locked the cabinet back up. She then marched downstairs, where all the freezer room was located. Phone snagged between shoulder and head, she said as calmly as she could, "Listen, Jack, do you have any blood in nearby?"

" _We have animal blood."_

"That isn't going to help." She stepped into the freezer room. It was essentially one of those big industrial-grade refrigerators that would usually be found in restaurants rather than in private homes. Hiring people to install it would have raised unwanted questions, so she had built it from scratch instead. Eugene might be the man of the house, but she was its engineer.

Shivering, she looped her hair over the hook on the wall so that it wouldn't touch the sticky floor below her. She then turned to the shelves of blood packets, all-lined up neatly across to type, rhesus type and date of collection.

" _Um, Doc?"_

She grabbed the cooler bag that she had brought in and tossed in some bags of whole blood, and as an afterthought, also some bags of plasma.

" _Dr. Fitzherbert? Rapunzel?"_ His tone was panicky, and from the background feedback, he wasn't the only one.

"Okay, Jack, this is what you're going to do," she told him as she zipped up the cooler bag. "I want you to apply pressure to wound. Use a clean cloth, boiled in water, fold twice and place it over the wound. Apply all your strength against the wound to plug the bleeding. As a vampire, -" she slung the bag over her shoulder, before tiptoeing herself out of the fridge room and shut the door "-I expect that should be enough."

" _Would that be enough to heal the wound?"_

"No," she answered frankly. The undead, being unnatural in nature, did not usually have the inherent ability to heal themselves. Any ability in clotting and repair of wounds came solely from the blood and its component. Since vampires couldn't produce their own blood, vampires needed to consume considerable amounts of human blood to heal completely – or as completely as the undead could. Animal blood couldn't prompt healing, for the same reasons that humans couldn't be transfused with animal blood. "You'll just stop him from bleeding until I reach there."

" _But that could be hours to get here from Corona!"_ There was a muffled screech in the backdrop and Rapunzel could almost hear Jack wincing. _"I don't think he'll last that long."_

"Have a little faith, Jack." She couldn't help but grin as she raced back up the steps, careful not to trip on her own hair. "I have ways."

Putting the phone on hold, she marched up to the shower. Throwing the two bags over her shoulder, she rapped on the door sharply, "EUGENE, DEAR! I NEED A LIFT!"

~~~0~~~

 _Palak Paneer (by Tooth)_

 _What you need:_

 _2 cups of Spinach_

 _1/2 cup of Paneer cheese cubes_

 _1/2 cup of Pork Blood Cubes_

 _1/2 cup of Pork Blood_

 _2 Onions, finely diced_

 _2 Tomatoes, finely diced_

 _1 Tablespoon of minced Ginger_

 _2 Tablespoons of Butter_

 _1 Green Chili, finely diced_

 _1/2 Teaspoon of Garam Masala_

 _1/2 Teaspoon of Cumin Seeds_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)In pot, add water. When boiling, add in spinach._

 _2)After 2 minutes, remove spinach from boiling water and blanch quickly. This is to retain the green colour._

 _3)In a saucepan, put over high heat and add a spoon of butter. Swirl in the centre until melted._

 _4)Add all the spices, including ginger, and stir into the butter._

 _5)Add in the onions. Stir until brown and aromatic._

 _6)Add Tomatoes in and stir. Allow to sit for a minute for tomatoes to wilt._

 _7)Pour cooled spinach into blender. Add liquid pork blood into it. Blend._

 _8)Pour blended mixture into the saucepan. Stir everything together and allow sauce to bubble and thicken._

 _9)Add in the paneer and blood cubes in. Remove from heat_

 _10)Add cream if desired. Serve with naan or warm rice._

 _Note: The final mixture will not be green, like the original, but it will still be delicious!_

~~~0~~~

"That was quick," Jack remarked as he pulled open the door, wiping off the blood off his hands.

After their call to door, they had taken turns to apply pressure on Bunny's wound. It was no pleasant duty, for the leaking wound was tender and Bunny, even in delirious state, was all too capable of making his displeasure known. After ten minutes of pressing on the wound, the boy was only too happy to pass the job onto the big Russian before going downstairs to receive their guests.

"Well, there are advantages of being married to vampire." The young doctor laughed lightly as she stepped into the house, and her braided hair just barely brushing against the tiles. The lean fellow behind her with the damp, disheveled hair appeared rather disgruntled. The way he hauled his two carriers and glared at Jack made it feel as if he was daring anyone to cheer him up.

Undaunted, Jack said, "Aren't you going to come in?"

"I was waiting to be invited," Eugene snapped irately. He made no show of being impressed as he stomped down the glided corridor, following after his fleet-footed wife. The white-haired boy just sighed and slammed the door shut.

Dr. Fitzherbert, or Rapunzel - he couldn't make up his mind what to call her, since both names stuck equally well – hurried up the stairs according to Jack's directions. It was easy enough to find the room, for Bunny was still howling a million and one curses and the blood-soaked North was not helping by shouting back.

Upon finally meeting the doctor they had heard so much about, the Guardians, all crowded in that humbled room that belonged to Bunny, quietened. Eyes fixed upon her young face and ears onto her beating heart. The doubt radiating off them was so palatable that Jack cringed. Stepping forward, he called to the elder vampire, "Guys, this is Dr. Fitzherbert. Let her take a look at the wound. North?"

Just before the big man removed his enormous hands, the blonde woman suddenly retorted, "No, don't."

Surprised glanced flew her way.

"Let me set up first." Her manner suddenly turned brisk and professional. "It'd be ridiculous to have ourselves splattered with blood before we even start." She raised her brow pointedly at the blood drips that decorated the path to the bed. "Eugene."

Without needing further instruction, the brunette fellow handed her the two bags, before ushering the rest of them out. "She needs her concentration," he told them as he waved them through the door. The only one who stayed was North, because he was already soiled in the split blood and the doctor needed another pair of hands. The click of the lock on the door made it clear, however, that no one else would interfere with the operation.

The rest of the time was just waiting. Tooth had taken to pacing outside the door, as if that would do any good. Sandy had gone to the kitchen to get them drinks. That just left Jack with the half of their two guests, who only now decided that he considered the contents of the mansion worthy of careful examination.

"17th Century, Murano," Eugene finally declared after studying a crystal chalice on one of the stands with great care. He turned to Jack for confirmation.

The boy stared blankly at him.

"Urgh, nevermind." The vampire scowled as he marched over to the next display. Silence fell back between them, only broken by the sound of Jack's shoes kicking against the carpet.

That was until the boy asked, "How do you do it?"

Eugene straightened up, glancing away from the ceramic plate he had been studying. "How did I what?"

"How do you two-" Jack scrambled his brains for the right question, one that wouldn't offend the other vampire "-stay together?"

"Ah." His reluctant visitor rolled his shoulders back, as if he had been anticipating the question. Given how much worse his reaction had been the first time Jack dropped a similar question, he probably had. Eugene plopped himself on the mother-of-pearl inlaid chair, across from Jack, folding leg over leg. "Well, my question back to you would be - _why do you want to know_?"

The boy rubbed his palms together as he peered down the corridor. Tooth remained absorbed in her task of pacing outside the door and Sandy made no sign of return yet. Seeing that he could speak freely, he confessed with a stutter, "Well, there's this girl – this human girl."

Eugene's brows rose with interest as he reclined back. "Isn't there always?"

"Yeah, maybe. But anyway." Jack massaged the back of his neck. "I kind of like her, she kind of likes me. We're sort of – testing waters, in a way-"

"Uh-huh."

"-and then she stabbed Bunny and ran off."

Eugene appeared puzzled. "Stabbed a what?"

"Bunny. He's the guy in-" he pointed down the corridor "-you know."

The other vampire made a face. "He's called 'Bunny'?"

"Bunnymund. E. Aster Bunnymund." Jack pressed his lips together. "I realise that doesn't really make it any better."

"Yeah." The guest shuddered. "And I used to think my name had issues." Realising that he might revealed something that he hadn't intended to, Eugene quickly changed the topic, "So, this girl of yours – she's knows you're a vampire?"

"No. Well, maybe." He tugged against his white locks as he groaned. "Oh, I didn't tell her, but I guess she's worked it out somehow, come to think of it. I mean, she started wearing a silver ring, she brought a garlic dish for dinner, and then she did use a silver knife, so hey, she was pretty prepared for this and…"

"Wait." Eugene paled – or pale as much as a vampire could, but still no match for Jack's snow-white skin. "Your girl's a vampire hunter, and you invited her for _dinner?_ What was she – the main course?"

"No!" Jack was disgusted at the accusation, and offended. "Elsa's not a hunter, and we don't drink human blood in this house!"

"That's impossible," was the returning retort. "Any other diet is unsustainable. When Rapunzel told me about you and your 'animal blood' diet, I wanted to tell her that you were downright fibbing, but then I didn't, because she looked excited and I'm not one to pour cold water over-"

"Okay, okay. You know what? Let's get back to topic." The boy massaged his temple. "Basically, bottomline thing is: I like this girl, this girl likes – liked me – but now I think she's know we're vampires, and she-"

"-wants to kill all of you," finished Eugene.

"- _thinks_ she wants to kill of us," Jack corrected with a distinct frown. "So basically, I'm asking you for advice on what to do."

The older fellow ran his thumb against his goatee as he pondered, brows furrowing as he did. Jack leaned forwards, expectant and eager. At last, Eugene spoke, "If you know any witches, you can magic some amnesia on her. Problem solved."

"Magic? Amnesia?" He was incredulous. "I don't want to give her amnesia!"

The other vampire looked annoyed that his suggestion was shot down so quickly. "Well, that's the only way to keep her from tattling on your deep, dark secret."

"I'm not doing something like that on her. I don't trust magic. Anyway, -" a memory surfaced in his mind, back to his first 'date' with the girl in question "-I don't think she'll tell."

"Really?" Eugene was skeptical.

"No." Jack let out an uneasy exhale. "She'll think that no one would believe her."

"That's probably true, as long as she doesn't have any hard evidence." The brunette vampire glanced up at him. " _Does_ she have any hard evidence?"

"Of course, she d-"

And that's when Sandy came dashing down the corridor, waving his hands frantically.

~~~0~~~

"That book is sacred!"

"Oh, relax. It's just a book. It's not as if we don't remember its contents, yes?"

"That's not the point." Tooth scowled. All the event, ranging from her unhappiness with Jack, the awkward dinner with Elsa and now Bunny's injury, has seemed to brought out the worst of the usually cheerful vampire. "It's our legacy as Guardians."

"I concur," came the self-declared Australian's weak response. "The bl'udy book s'always been part of us."

Though the operation was complete and the wound largely patched up, the doctor had been unhappy to have her patient disturbed. "He should be resting," Dr. Fitzherbert had insisted. Even now, her work was not done. She was still shifting around, inserting tubes in various parts of Bunny's body and checking his vitals – or there lack of - as well as adjusting his bandages.

The discussion however couldn't wait, for their great secret was at risk. Thus, the four healthy Guardians gathered around their wounded comrade and began to debate on what exactly to do.

" _Legacy aside,"_ the small vampire signed, _"the book could reveal much about us."_

"Not necessarily," Jack argued. As the person responsible for much of the mess, he felt obliged to throw in some optimism – well, as much optimism as he could grant in an already dire circumstance. "The book just reveals that we like eating blood, and it doesn't say human blood either, so it's not illegal. So we're just a weird bunch of people with a high-iron diet. No biggie."

North stroked his beard. "He does have a point."

"But the girl is onto us, isn't she?" Bunny hissed. He was trying not to talk to loud, because his usual volume apparently shifted his chest in a manner that was not comfortable. "As long as she thinks she's right, she's gonna keep digging. Eventually, she's going find something. And she _will_ find something," he insisted, against the blocky Russian's skeptical expression. "She's a smart one." He winced, tugging against his bandages. That earned a frown from the doctor, who immediately undid the knot of the wrapping so she could tighten it up. "I won't be surprised if she winds up being one of those hunters."

"She's not a hunter, Bunny," the boy insisted crossly. Why did people keep bring that idea up?

"Well, if she ain't hiding a Van Helsing tattoo under those gloves of her, then what's she hiding, eh?"

"She's _not_ a hunter, so stop saying that."

The room was quiet under the sounds of Rapunzel working and her patient's grunts of pains. All the members of the Guardians silently contemplated what Bunny had said, and by extension, the consequences of it being true.

Finally, it was Sandy who suggested, _"We need to leave Burgess."_

"Leave?" For some reason, the notion astounded Jack, as if they hadn't done it a dozen times. "But we can't!"

"If we were to leave so hastily, it's bound to create some spectating," North murmured gravely.

"Speculation," Bunny corrected in a wheezy tone.

Tooth smoothed back the coloured strands on her head. "Well, it won't matter what people think if they can't prove anything, and they can't prove anything if we're not around."

The big vampire's expression was unhappy. "We'd have to burn the mansion down, no?"

" _And its contents?"_ was Sandy's hurried inquiry. He did not seem to like the idea of moving any more than North did.

"We bring what we can. The rest will have to be destroyed," was the heartless conclusion from Tooth. She sighed. "We'll have to start over. Again."

"This time can we move to Australia?" Bunny tried to reach up to scratch his nose, only to realise that he couldn't move his arm without jostling his wound. Eventually, he gave up, wrinkling his nose. "I mean - we never go to Australia."

"There's a reason why skin-disease is so common amongst humans there." Tooth shook her head. "If they can't bear their sun, we don't stand a chance."

"In that case, might I suggest Siberia?"

"I put my foot down on that freezing hell- OW!"

"Please stop moving," the doctor chided. "You're gonna leak through the dressing."

" _Can anyone hear me?"_ Sandy signed furiously as everyone else started stating where they should move. _"We should move to Greenland!"_

"No one wants to go Greenland, Sandy."

" _What's wrong with Greenland? It has great scenery."_

"Well, for one-"

And on and on when the discussion until Dr. Fitzherbert got fed up and chased everyone out. It was just as well, for Bunny was starting to nod off and no amount of bantering with North was going to keep him awake. After the rest had departed, Jack, who had grown silent after the unexpected turn of the conversation, lingered behind.

Eventually, the patient went out cold on his bed, and the doctor's work on his tubes and needles became a good deal easier. Stabbing silver in a vampire's flesh, even in the form of IV needles, caused an uncomfortable kind of numbness and it was amazing that Bunny could slept on while she punched another line into his stomach.

As she stripped herself of her plastic apron, her mask and gloves, the woman with long blonde hair noticed the tarrying boy. Concerned, she inquired, "Are you alright, Jack? How are your wounds?"

"Oh, um." The boy lifted his shirt slightly, peering at the swathes of bandages below them. "They're fine. A bit of pain, but the discomfort isn't obvious."

"That's good." She disposed the consumables into the bin, before checking the large bag of blood that hung towards next to Bunny's bed.

Even though the tubing from the bag to patient was completely sealed, the sight of the bright fresh blood was enough to make Jack's mouth water. He had to shake the notion away. It had been a few hours since dinner – it was 2 am in the morning, after all. Perhaps he should get a drink for himself to quench the thirst.

Noting that he had not moved from his spot, Rapunzel then inquired, amused, "Is there something you want to talk to me about?"

He hesitated a little, before suggesting, "Maybe over some tea?"

They headed down to the kitchen, which had been wiped cleaned from all that the blood that Bunny's spilled over it. A jug of blood tea was in the fridge as always, so Jack poured one glass for himself, then another for his guest when she said that she'd like to sample some.

"Cheers." The boy clinked their glasses jokingly before he took a gulp of his.

The doctor imitated his example, but stiffened up halfway through. She dashed up to the sink and spat it out, gagging as she did. Jack then took the glass from her hands as she wiped her mouth with the napkin he had her. "Sorry," she apologised, embarrassed. "I guess I'm not really a blood person."

"It's alright." Jack waved it off, as he poured the remnants of her blood tea into his own glass. "I wonder what your husband would think of it, though."

As it was, Eugene had dozed off on one of the couches during the earlier discussion. Vampires didn't technically need sleep, but living so long with a mortal wife like herself, Rapunzel had explained, had granted him a body clock of sorts. She had done a few studies on him in attempts to discover if the process was a physiological one rather than a psychological one. The answers, as of now, still evaded her.

"I'm afraid Eugene has very specific tastes," Rapunzel said, giggling lightly. "He's a bit of purist, you see. He despises all forms of human cuisine, even just garnishing, so he'd never drink this."

"He doesn't know what he's missing," the boy muttered as he sipped his crimson beverage. He stopped short however when a thought occurred to him. "Wait, Eugene hates all forms of human cuisine?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"But when I was at your house-" memory came to him in the form of images "-he drank the tea you made. And ate the cookies you baked."

"Mmm-hmm."

"But he hates them."

"Yep."

"Then-" Jack scratched his scalp, confused "-why is he torturing himself?"

"Well." A mysterious smile crept onto the long-haired doctor's sweet countenance. "I like cooking – always have – so there's always human food on the table, and he eats it with me. I never asked him to, told him to stop even. But he insists in showing me that he appreciates my food, even if his taste buds can't."

It suddenly clicked. "He really loves you, doesn't he?"

Rapunzel's expression turned into something more sombre, more sorrowful. "More than he should."

"Hmm." He swallowed down more tea, trying to figure out a tactful way to pry. Eventually, he settled on, "So… how did you guys meet?"

"He broke into my home. I hit him with a frying pan."

There was a pause after that. "Oh."

"He used to be a thief back then, centuries ago, but he straightened up a lot since. More for my sake than any prickling of conscience, I admit." She laughed a little, but Jack could tell her heart wasn't really into. "I apparently have a good deal of influence over him. I sometimes wish I didn't."

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, face scrunched up. "How's that a bad thing?"

Rapunzel fiddled with the empty glass, eventually settling for washing it up in the sink. "Well, -" Her voice was so quiet, like she didn't mean for him to hear it "-love can sometimes make you do terrible things."

~~~0~~~

 _Baked Blood Fries (By Sandy)_

 _What You Need_

 _2-3 Pork Blood Cubes_

 _Salt_

 _Pepper_

 _Paprika_

 _Olive oil_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Preheat oven to 350F._

 _2)Cut up pork blood cubes into 1/2-inch-thick sticks._

 _3)After washing, lay out on a rack to dry for 15minutes._

 _4)Lay the blood stick out on a baking tray lined with a baking sheet._

 _5)Brush all the stick with olive oil. Sprinkle salt, pepper and paprika onto the fries._

 _6)Bake in the oven half an hour, or until the fries are cooked on both sides._

 _7)Eat on its own, or serve with sour cream dip, mixed with herbs and blood._

~~~0~~~

"For you. Please wait-"

Hiccup took the sealed envelope and immediately tore it open.

"-three days before opening it," Jack finished lamely. He groaned and threw up his hands. "Why did I even bother?"

The auburn-haired boy pulled out the sheet within it and unfolded it, eyes rapidly running over it. He raised his head in alarm. "You're leaving Burgess already? But it's been – what, four years?"

"Five." The vampire let out an annoyed puff as he opened up his lunch box, setting it on the table. "Yeah, but it's still pretty short considering."

"And you lost the copy of Hamlet that I lent you two years ago but couldn't tell me till now?" Hiccup's voice was reeking incredulity as he continued reading. "Seriously? I might have hated it, but it still costs ten bucks!"

"Fine, fine." The white-haired boy pulled out his wallet and flipped it open, only to find that it was empty. "Okay, I'll pay you back tomorrow."

"You mean, if you're still around." His friend shook his head at him as he picked up his beef burger. "Forget it. You're not going to remember all this with moving, farewells, packing-" he stopped short, turning more serious "-wait, does Elsa know?"

The name alone made him stiffen up, and he glanced around them. Fortunately, no one else in the cafeteria seemed to have heard them – not that they would have understood the conversation entirely.

"Hey." Hiccup's voice brought his focus back. "Have you told her?"

" _Weeeellllll_." He rubbed his hands nervously. "She might know that I'm a vampire."

"YOU TOLD HER?"

"…No..."

The other boy blinked. "She worked it out on her own?"

"I think so." Jack pursed his lips. "Unless someone else told her."

"Who?"

"No clue. Not many people in this town know about it." He began to count them off his fingers. "There's me, you, the other Guardians, the doctor from Corona and her husband, and there's-" the pace of his speech slowed considerably "-the witch."

"The witch?"

"Merida Dunbroch. That redhead two years younger than us? But I don't think she and Elsa ever met each other, and there's no reason she'd split on me when I know her secrets."

"Wait – Dunbroch?" Hiccup frowned, eyes widening. "Haven't you heard? Merida Dunbroch's go-"

"JACK!" Their discussion was interrupted by a frantic shout.

For one second, the white-haired lad contemplated leaping to his feet, but it was not the blonde girl – just her younger sister. Anna's freckled face was flushed with exertion, and just a few paces behind her was thick block of muscle known as Kristoff Bjorgman, who was running down the cafeteria too but not looking the slightest out of breath.

The girl grasped her arm before he could pull away from her. "Jack, we have a problem! A horrible-terrible-vegetable sort of problem!"

"What?" Dread engulfed him. "What is it?"

"Basically, we're getting a lot of last minute phoning in and arrangements to do, but we can't do it because my sister-" Anna wrung her hands tragically in the air "-is out of commission!"

"Out of commission?"

"Sick," Kristoff translated. "She got caught in the rain yesterday after coming home from your place."

"Oh." Jack felt very relieved to hear that, as unfortunate as it was for Elsa. He wasn't sure he could face her after what she had done last night, and he wondered if she would have stabbed him as readily as he did Bunny. A hand subconsciously ran over his belly, which was still covered with bandages under his T-shirt.

"Oh, yes." Anna suddenly cooled, asking quite casually, "How was the dinner yesterday?"

"It was-" in his brain, so many images were flashed – the awkward dinner, the oddly vulnerable confession of affection, the making-out on his bed, the stabbing "-weird. She did have a bit of food poisoning though." He added the last bit as an afterthought.

"Maybe that might be part of the reason," the girl mused, before resuming her frantic manner. "But anyway, my sister's sick, and there's so many stuff that needs to be done for tomorrow, so we need your help. Now, in fact."

"Tomorrow?" Bunny's warning rang in his ears. "Guy, I made it clear last time that I'm not coming down tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"Because-" he scrambled for an excuse, and being unable to come up with one, shot a pleading look at Hiccup.

"Because Jack has haemophobia," the scrawny auburn-haired boy helpfully threw in. Noting Anna and Kristoff's bewildered expression, he explained, "He's scared stiff of blood. You send him in there, he might have an epileptic fit and wither into a pile of bones."

"Well-" the boy in question narrowed his gaze at the diner across him, who was wearing an innocent expression "-that's a tad of an exaggeration."

"But, Jack, if we don't have someone to lead us, the whole donation drive will fail." The girl abruptly fell to her knees, clasping her hands together. Immediately, this earned the attention of everyone in the cafeteria, much to Jack's dismay. Anna however was oblivious. "Please, please, please, Jack!"

"But Elsa's the real president of SASS!"

"She mightn't recover by tomorrow," Kristoff pointed out.

"Then why don't you take charge?"

"I have no social skills."

"Okay." Jack spun towards the girl, waving a hand to her, "Then why not Anna-"

"No."

"But-"

"Not unless you want the school to explode, no."

"Hey!"

"Look, feisty-pants." The blonde boy turned to her. "You're great at lots of things, but being the president of a society is not one of them."

"But-"

"You don't work good under pressure and you don't have a good sense of judgement."

"What?"

"You know it's true."

" _Hmmph_." Anna marched back up to her feet, snorting.

Kristoff was unmoved as he turned to the seated boy. "So that leaves you, Jack."

"But, I-"

"There's no alternative."

"But-"

"We need a leader."

"Think of all the poor kids in the hospital who have to transfusions every day," Anna pleaded, her eyes suddenly being becoming wide and impossible to resist. "Think of all the old people so weak and frail that they need blood pumped in them. Think of the people who get into accidents. Blood can save lives. We can't cancel this project."

The white-haired boy hesitated.

"We _need_ you, Jack."

He was going to regret this, wasn't he?

~~~0~~~

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice." She shook the hand of the small, stout gentleman.

"It's no problem at all." His voice was deep and thick with a wisdom that could only come with age. "It was such a peculiar request. I couldn't resist." He gestured a short hand towards the door labelled 'staff-only'. "Let us study this find of yours, shall we?"

Her sickness was no feign. When Elsa had awoken this morning, she had been very pale and tired, shivering though she didn't have a fever. Later in the day, however, she had managed to recover some of her strength and banished her tiredness with a strong cup of coffee. With that, she had attempted to study the leather book that she had stolen - ahem, _retrieved_ – from the Guardians' mansion. She had, after all, stabbed a person in order to attain it, so it had better be worth the guilt she felt.

However, after an hour, she had come to the conclusion that there was nothing here except recipes. What more, there wasn't anything very incriminating in the recipes either. All the blood in them was always 'pork blood' or 'cow blood', or another animal blood. While exotic in taste, it wasn't illegal.

In other words, this couldn't be used as evidence for her suspicion.

It was then that she decided to study the book itself. It looked at least a hundred years old – or more. She needed an expert opinion to date the book though, so that hopefully the age of the book would provide her with some of the answers she needed.

She hadn't expected her email to the Burgess' Gallery of Art to be answered within minutes of her sending it, with one of the curators willing to meet her that very afternoon – _'if she was free, of course'._ With her sister still at school, Kai at work and the sun mostly covered under the clouds, she decided to head down to the gallery herself.

Pabbie, the curator who had invited her, gestured for her to set her prize down on a square table as he slapped on a pair of rubber gloves. She removed the book from her bag and placed it down.

"Fascinating binding style," the old fellow murmured as he squinted on the side of the book. "Whoever made this was quite a skilled workman. Where did you find this book?" He lifted up the leather cover, feeling it in his gloved hands. "Well-maintained."

"A friend gave it to me," she lied glibly, her own gloves twisted behind her back as she watched observe his handling of the book. "Do you have any thoughts on its age yet?"

"I would have to stare at it for a good while before I can know for sure, my dear." Pabbie headed to his workbench to reach for a pair of forceps and magnifying glass. "Meanwhile, perhaps you'd like to take a walk around the gallery? We have a temporary exhibition on Art and Folklore. You might find it quite interesting."

"It's alright. I'll just wait here." Elsa found a nearby chair by another desk and settled herself on it. She didn't want to let the book out of her sight.

The old fellow shrugged, but his expression revealed that he thought her rather silly.

Perhaps she should have followed his advice, because in less than fifteen minutes, she found herself nodding off, unable to even keep up with browsing her phone. She was so very tired after all, and travelling here had taken out more of her than she had expected.

When she awoke, it because she felt a shaking on her shoulder. Blinking, Elsa found herself face to face with the kindly curator. "Come, my dear," he beckoned her to the office adjacent to the one they were currently in. "Let me tell you what I've found."

The adjacent office, Elsa realized, was much darker than the one she was in, and in fact, it wasn't an office. It functioned as some kind of storeroom, if the paintings and sculptures everywhere with their numbers and stickers were anything to go by. Under the lowlight, the curator led her to a small study table where the leather book was.

"There are so many odd things about this book," he told her as he flicked on a small lamp by the book. "When I first looked at it and saw the recipes in English in it, my conclusion was that the book was made two centuries ago, and all the words in here are all modern vandalism - pardon my terminology. I do not mean to call your friend a vandal."

"It's alright." She could only wish Jack were merely a vandal. That would be the least of her problems

"But then I realized – the writing."

"The writing?"

"Yes. In the first few pages, -" he flipped those delicate pages with a pair of forceps for her to see "-these ones which are not in English, they are written with different tools. This one is with charcoal-" he pointed to a set of scary black words, then to lighter coloured one "-and that with ink. Here, this one was written with a brush, and that one a quill. And the I realized that all the non-English ones were almost as old as the parchment they were written on. The parchment, my, the parchment-" he ran a gentle hand one of the pages "-it's some of the finest I've ever seen, and not all of them were of the same make."

"Pardon?" She was overwhelmed by all the information loaded on her.

"The front few sheets were all made individually, thus they vary in age, type and style of making. I suspect that initially all these non-English recipes were written individually, before being compiled into the book. That would explain why they all look so different."

"Then what about the English ones?"

"They were written on newer parchment, and I suspect they were written after the compilation took place." Pabbie flipped one of the pages. "I'm no linguist, so I can't confirm whether the non-English ones are recipes as well, but the layout suggests it quite strongly."

"I see." She watched him as he turned the pages to the recipes in English. "Could you make out when these were written? Or that they are all by the same people?"

"The same people?" Pabbie appeared doubtful. "I don't think so. The style of writing changes quite drastically as you go down the book – probably reflecting the changes in writing equipment and across the years. My best guess is that this was a family recipe book, passed down from generation to generation."

"Oh." That was not the answer was she was looking for. "What about the non-English recipes in the front?"

The curator rubbed his chin. "I suspect that it might've been just a way of collecting a bunch of unrelated manuscripts. It's a careless way of storing such fragile documents, so I'm surprised it lasted this long."

"I see." Dead end. There was absolutely nothing she could use. Nothing she could learn. This book could easily be one of the dozen curios in the Guardians' house. Her suspicions were nothing but that – suspicions.

Elsa shook her head, berating herself inwardly. She was going crazy. That was the only explanation. Sneaking around, listening to mysterious conspiracies, prying into things that she wasn't meant to She could only hope the Guardians didn't press charges.

"There is one curious thing though," the curator told her as he handed the book back to her, though this time wrapped in tracing paper for protection. "I noticed that the covers smelled very strongly of iron. Not sure why, but I suspect that if the readers of this book really prepared dishes from blood, they might have spilled some on it. All the same, the iron smell is quite strong though." Pabbie hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps your friend had used it quite recently before passing it to you."

"Perhaps that is it."

Drained and discouraged, the weariness she felt from before weighed down her even more now. Elsa tucked the book hurriedly in her bag, attempting to suppress her disappointment as she did. This trip had been wasted. Her suspicions of Jack and his family were unfounded, and even if they ended up being true, no one would believe her. Back to square one, or maybe even further back.

After thanking Pabbie, the girl prepared to depart from the storeroom when she noticed one of the painting sitting near the door. It was a very horrible-looking portrait of a very old, very sickly man, riddled with bruises, scars and discolourations all over his skin. His eyes were yellow with jaundice, with flecks of an ugly red over them. His hunched body forward from the chair, with his bony thin hand clutching a sword that he could barely lift. Looking at the grotesque image was enough to send bile up her throat, but she couldn't help feel that she had seen it before.

The girl gestured towards the painting as she asked the curator, "Was this on display recently?"

"' _Portrait of an Ugly Aristocrat'_ – yes, but we had to take it down for restoration again. It's quite fragile thing, that's why we have to handle it with such care." He stepped up next to her, surveying the hideous figure in the frame with a morbid sort of appreciation. "Considering that it was created in the 17th hundreds were aesthetic beauty was highly prized, it's quite daring for a painter to produce something this horrendous. What more, it's said that the longer you look at it, the more hideous the painting becomes."

"I see," Elsa murmured, feeling slightly sick. She quickly made her way out of the office, shuddering.

By the time she left the gallery, it was already closing time. When she got on the bus, the sky had turned crimson and the clouds purple. When she finally alighted at her stop, evening had already fallen over the land, though the sky was still alight. As she headed down the dirt-tracked road that would lead her home, she was surprised suddenly to find a figure standing in front of her. "What on-" she glanced up.

It was the strange gentleman who had escorted her back home the night before. What he was doing in this area, she didn't know.

He didn't exactly offer an explanation, merely tipping his hat her. She had no idea why he had one, or why he was dressed in a fashion with a 19th century vibe, but somehow, it suited him. "I'm glad to see that you're well."

"Oh, right." Elsa wasn't sure how to respond to that. On one hand, she could barely keep her eyes open, but at the same time, she was hardly going to explain to a stranger why she was sneaking out when she was technically sick. So instead, she opted to change the topic, "I never really got to thank you. For yesterday. The rain, and you know." Was she usually this _articulate?_

"It was no problem." He let out a small chuckle, one that was supposed to be disarming, yet felt oddly chilling. "No problem at all."

There was something in his laugh that felt familiar. Yet, with how distinctive his angular-shaped chin and cheekbones were, Elsa wondered how she could possibly forget meeting a person like him. On impulse, she found herself offering, "My house isn't that far off. Would you like to come in and have a drink?"

He appeared a little surprise by this invitation, but that vanished when he answered, "Well, far be it from me to refuse such generosity."

So she led him down the road and they exchanged polite conversation. With the sky still quite light, she was better able to see him now, and realised how strange the proportions of his body – from his towering height and his trim form – were. His accent made clear that he wasn't from these parts, and indeed he explained himself as ' _a tourist enjoying the idyllic town life, no?'_.

But his 'British' accent sounded too … affected, as if it was being performed rather than natural. Not to mention his clothes, _and_ the way he walked, _and_ the way he moved. His mannerisms were exceptionally graceful, his every action full of poise and intentionality like an actor on a stage. She could very well have believed that he stepped straight out an Austen novel, if anyone had told her such.

When they arrived at the door and she had it unlocked, Elsa was surprised that he didn't enter immediately. Instead, the strange gentleman merely stopped to stare at the doorframe, then at her door, then down to the doormat. Was he waiting for permission to enter? How weirdly polite.

"Come in. Just wipe your shoes first." She grimaced down at her own feet. "The roads are pretty muddy."

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise." The grin he flashed revealed his immaculate teeth that contrasted with the ashen hue of his skin.

There something gnawing her at the back of her head, but she brushed it off in favour of playing the good hostess. So Elsa took him to the living room, urging him to sit while she headed over to the kitchen. "Coffee or tea?"

"Whatever's convenient would do." He didn't take up her offer on a seat, rather occupying himself with surveying his surroundings.

Elsa moved to the kitchen and filled a kettle to boil. Following that, she then retrieved two tea bags – the more expensive ones that were only for guests – and placed them on the saucers next to the cups. Once the kettle was done, she filled the cups and set them each on a tray. She then lifted the tray and carried it over the living room.

Her guest was amidst studying a small photograph on the shelf and merely grunted when she had announced the arrival of their beverages. He instead gestured to the object of his interest and asked, "Is this of your family?"

The girl blinked, and then realised the photo that he was pointing was of a family vacation to Disneyland. It had been the last family vacation that they had with their parents. In fact, it might have been the last vacation ever. "Yes."

"Your mother's very beautiful," the strange gentleman mused, thumb pressed against his own chin. "You clearly take after her."

"Oh." She didn't know how to response to this out-of-the-blue compliment. "Thank you."

After he took a seat across her, the conversation became much less awkward. For his strange airs, the dark-robed gentleman was surprisingly easy person to converse with, despite their obvious age gap and the lack of familiarity between them. Or perhaps it was because of the lack of familiarity that she could speak with such ease. After all, the people that she currently didn't want to deal with were the people that she knew, and knew too well.

"You seem troubled, my dear," her guest commented with some measure of concern. "Is something wrong?"

Elsa shook her head, and only then realised that she had added too many spoons of sugar into her own tea. Placing down the cup on the tea table, she let out a breath that she didn't know she had been holding in. "It's … nothing."

"You need not fear in sharing with me. As an outsider, surely I would be the best candidate for a neutral opinion."

Normally, she was not one to share her thoughts, especially with strangers. But somehow, something in her felt compelled to tell him – this mysterious fellow whom she had happened to run into just the day before. After all, what harm could there be? He was just a stranger, after all. "Well, I suppose it's sounds silly, and helplessly adolescent, but-" she sighed "-it's about a boy."

The blonde girl then poured out the story to her cordial listener, filtering out all the bits about vampires, the incident with Anna on Valentine's Day and her possible homicide attempt. Instead, she shared frankly on Jack's secretiveness, her own doubts and disappointments, and the peculiar chemistry that swung back and forth like a pendulum between the two of them.

When she was done, Elsa plopped her two gloved hands down on her lap, filled with embarrassment. "You probably think this is just some silly teenage drama," she admitted at last, her mouth curled into a wry smile.

"No, no," the strange gentleman contradicted kindly. "Please don't deprecate yourself so. The concern is valid, for someone your age."

This reassurance relaxed, and the girl found herself telling him, "To be honest, I don't know what to do."

"Hmm, well." His index fingers were pressed together against his lip as he pondered her dilemma. At last, he spoke, "Might I ask, my dear, what do you deem the purpose of a courtship?"

By now, she was quite unaffected by his strange way of speaking, because, for some reason, she found that she could understand him perfectly. "I suppose - for _me_ at least - it would be to find a companion for life." The girl glanced towards the photo hanging off the wall. "Like my parents, I suppose."

"That is the purpose of seeking a 'relationship', as you called, isn't it? But what is the point of the _courtship_ itself _?"_

Elsa frowned, trying to follow his line of enquiry. "Well, I suppose the 'courtship' phase is to see if two parties can be happy together?"

"Yes." The left-corner of his thin lips tugged upwards, presenting the lop-sided half-smile she had seen the night before. "Attraction is fleeting, and feelings too fade with. Thus, any relationship built on those alone cannot be sustained."

"But…what about love?"

"Love?" There was a mocking glint in his eye as he repeated the word. "Love is but a mere emotion, too fond of disappointing its seekers and betraying its believers. Nay." He shook his head emphatically. "Have love as the foundation and any endeavor will fall apart."

The girl wasn't too sure of this opinion. In her practical mind, it made sense, yet… "Well, if not love, then what?"

His half-smile grew into a full white one, sending chills down her spine for reasons she still couldn't place. "Compatibility. The matching of wits, priorities and values. That is what builds a relationship that lasts, and one to be reckoned with."

"Compatibility," echoed Elsa, digesting the phrase herself.

"From what you've told me, it is clear that you have feelings for this young man, and him you. However, there is very little else that holds you both together." He let out of thoughtful sound as he sipped on his tea. "If that happens right from the start, any relationship established later on is doubtful to last. Which makes me wonder-" he tilted his head at her "-why hold onto this infatuation at all?"

Now that he put it that way, suddenly her whole issue with Jack seemed a good deal smaller, and in fact, it seemed very unimportant. Perhaps the whole notion of romance had gotten to her head. Perhaps she had allowed herself too caught up in the dream of the drama, and lost her grip on reality. These conflicted feelings were unnecessary and she had been harbouring them too great a personal cost.

Perhaps, she should just let him go. After what she had done to Jack's brother the night before, he would probably be more than willing to do the same for her.

"Thank you for the advice," Elsa breathed out at last. "I'll really think about it."

"Do that, my dear." He set his empty cup onto its saucer, beaming down at her with a strange warmth. "I'm glad to be of service."

"Might I ask, are you in a relationship yourself?" she couldn't help wondering out loud. A glance at his hand revealed no ring.

He snickered. "Not at the moment. But-" his voice lowered, as if sharing a secret "-soon, I expect. Soon."

~~~0~~~

 **Wassup, folks?**

 **I'm really tired. I should sleep. ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

 **Palak Paneer with blood? Yep, I just ruined a vegetarian dish. That said, I really, really love Palak Paneer and I tried cooking it this week. It turned out pretty good, but I didn't have naan, or paneer, so… it was pretty sad.**

 **The book? Ah, yes. The book. Is it important? Well, I don't know. This entire story is named after it, so what do you THINK?**

 **I'm kidding. The book actually plays an incredibly small role in this whole thing.**

 **If you haven't realized it by now, or if I haven't mentioned (which is weird, because I thought that I have, so….), this story is meant to be a sort of tribute to the classic gothic horror, plus some modern influences. But generally, I am aiming for a sort of gothicky frame. Time to gear up the Hitchcock factor. Welllll, technically he's more 'thriller', but, in those days, wasn't much difference between the two.**

 **Guest Mailbox:**

 **Tq (Oct 6): You thought Elsa was in trouble before? Well, now it only gets worse. And worser. And Worsest! Worser than my destruction of the English language! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA**

 **Alene Mask: Aww, thanks. You make me blush. Oh, wait, no. I'm too tired too blush, so…sorry. But I'm glad that somehow the romance was not completely weird. Haha, I like reading romance too, but writing it – man, it's tough not to sound stupid. Seriously. I guess that's why there are so few good chick flicks around.**

 **So, bye!**


	12. Chapter 12

"I think your sister doesn't like me."

"Tooth?" Jack glanced up from the pestle and mortar. He had been tasked with crushing a handful of weird looking beans as finely as dust as possible. With his strength, it should be easy, except that if he applied too much pressure, he might end up breaking the pestle and ruin everything. "What makes you think that?"

Rapunzel hesitated as she washed the crimson stones under the water. "Well, every time I walk in the room, she frowns."

"It's not you," the boy assured her as he continue his grinding work. The beans were starting to look more like a paste now, so he hoped that was alright. "It's just the stress of everything going. Bunny, Elsa, moving out, all that."

Indeed, the preparations to move out had already begun. North had made arrangements to sell off as much furniture as possible, while Sandy had taken to cancelling their cable subscription, their magazine subscriptions, and even their subscription subscriptions. Tooth was in charge of the more arduous task of packing things. She was supposed to do this together with Jack, but matters at school made it difficult for him to help as much as he should.

He hadn't told the Guardians about how his two schoolmates had roped him into the Blood Donation Drive. With Bunny still on the mend and the departure looming ahead, he figured that they didn't need yet another mess than he had created. But with less than twelve hours to the start of the much anticipated programme, it had struck him that he was going to be in close proximity to many bleeding people. The scent of the iron in the air would tempt him, even at a full appetite, which was why he needed to curb his sense of smell. Fortunately, his new found friend had some ideas.

After tomorrow, Jack told himself. After tomorrow, he would think of the future. For now, he would focus on the Blood Drive.

"I'll talk to her," he said at last. "Now, what do we do next?"

As it so happened, Rapunzel had volunteered to stay at the Guardians' Mansion for the duration of Bunny's recuperation. It made no sense to travel back to her own town, and she could easily pass her normal work off to her normal colleagues. Her husband however had refused, though they had plenty of room to house him too if he wanted. Rapunzel had been the one to explain that he had never liked interacting with other vampires, even those that staunchly drank animal blood.

"In fact," she told Jack, a little uneasily, "I think he'd really rather I stay away from of you all."

"Then why does he let you stay?"

"Well, he thinks I need more friends." She shrugged as she dropped the stones into his mortar and showed him how to grind it into the paste. "Also, he's not the boss of me."

That wasn't to say that Eugene didn't come to Guardian mansion at all. He had visited just three hours ago to have dinner with his wife, only to depart abruptly with the cryptic excuse of 'work'. He had received a very urgent case, Rapunzel had explained to Jack with a worried expression, and he hadn't rested much since.

"What kind of case?" Jack had inquired, wondering if the sullen man was a doctor like his wife, or another kind of professional, like a lawyer or something.

He didn't get any information, however, for the doctor said that details were confidential. Well, so much for getting to know people.

Now that they were done with producing the paste, it was now time to heat over the stove – a roast to break down the toxins, as Rapunzel explained. After waiting for the pan to heat up over flame Jack transferred the smashed mixture in and spread it out with a spatula. The doctor started a timer to make sure that they cook it for the right amount of time.

"It's going to be a while," she told him, poking the paste in the pan. "You can go and do your work first if you like. I can watch it."

Usually, he wouldn't, but Anna had sent him two flyer designs and needed his help to choose, because she, to quote, 'adored both equally'. The hospital people that would be running the stations at the Drive had also sent him a multitude of emails about making sure that the forms were printed, that consent was obtained and a whole lot of other things. It was a good thing he didn't really need sleep, because he doubted he was going to get any tonight.

When he passed by Bunny's room, however, he did pause to take a look in. There was no real reason to do so other than to see if the crappy old geezer was alive – or as alive as an undead person could be. This time that he poked his head in though, he was surprised to note that Tooth was there, sitting cross-legged next to the slumbering patient. She seemed more pale than usual as she gazed down at the tattooed vampire, and she was combing back his grey hair with careful gentleness that could almost be called affection.

And then she noticed Jack's presence and pulled back her hand.

"Hi," he greeted her lamely.

Tooth looped one of her coloured strands behind her ear - a mere pretence of normalcy. "Hi."

"You alright?"

"As far as it goes," she answered, listless. She eyed the bag of blood hanging from the side of the bed, drip, drip, dripping through the IV line that went under Bunny's shirt.

He debated inquiring about what had he had just witnessed, but decided to for the less awkward, though no less dangerous, topic. "Um, actually, there was something I wanted to ask you about."

She nodded, waiting for him to speak.

"Well,-" he stepped in, seating himself down at the armchair not far from hers "-Rapunzel's getting the vibe that you don't like her, and I think it's upsetting her."

"Oh," was her only response as she folded her arms over her chest.

"So…mind trying to be nicer?"

Tooth raised a brow, her manner suddenly becoming cold. "Well, I don't exactly trust her."

Jack blinked. "What?"

"I said I don't exactly-"

"No, no, I heard that." The boy dragged his chair nearer, jaw falling open, brows furrowing. "But, why not? She saved Bunny's life. Heck – she saved mine!"

Tooth was unmoved. "I concede that we owe her for that, yes, but-" she pursed her lips together "-there's something off about her."

"Like what?"

"Don't you think it's weird that she devotes so much time and effort in preserving the lives of individuals that shouldn't be walking on the earth in the first place?"

The boy stared at her in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

" _Yes!_ Jack-" Tooth's voice dropped to a whisper, as if afraid of being overheard "-has she even asked for payment?"

His forehead creased as he pondered. "Well, I reckon she just forgot about it. I'm sure we can have it settled if we asked." Then again, knowing the doctor, he doubted she would take payment even if they pressed her to do so.

She was getting increasingly agitated. "Also, I found her poking around mansion earlier-"

"We have a huge and interesting house compared to her."

"-and pouring through books in the library."

"We have a huge and interesting library, and if she want to read those dusty things, let her! No one else does!"

"I don't know what it is, but there's something - _something_ off about her."

"Well, she does have extremely long hair and she's older than you. But Tooth-" he grabbed the other vampire firmly by the shoulder. "-is this really about Dr. Fitzherbert, or this about Bunny?"

Her face turned impassive. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He rubbed his neck as he glanced towards the patient reclined on the bed. Bunny had made no response thus far, so it was safe to say that he was sound asleep still. Turning his attention back to Tooth, the white-haired boy said, "I mightn't know anything about love, but I'm pretty sure that you care for him."

Tooth was unmoved. "I care for all you."

"Yes, but the way that you care for him is vastly different from the way you care me," Jack pointed out. "I mean, you guys practically argue like an old married couple."

"It's Bunny. He argues with everyone like that."

It was clear that Tooth was going to stubborn about this, so he decided to get straight to the point. "Look, if both you guys got together, it wouldn't be a bad thing. I mean-" he shrugged "-we're still going to be the Guardians no matter what. And even if he's gruff, stuffy, bossy, bad-tempered douche most of the time-" Bunny didn't so much as flinch when he said these, which convinced him more than anything that the vampire really was dead to the world "-he's got a good heart. He won't hurt you." He paused briefly. "Well, if he does anyway, the rest of us will take turns to barbecue him with UV light."

That brought out a small smile on Tooth's face, until it faded into a tense mien of conflict. Her head spun itself towards the dozing patient, and her hand was raised mid-air, itching to reach towards him. Then she lowered the hand, biting her lip. "It's not like it would last." She let out a bitter snort. "Vampires outlive everything, even love."

"It's mightn't last if you try. It's won't if you don't." The words that left his lips felt oddly wise - a sensation that he didn't get often. "Some heartbreaks are worth the risk, Tooth."

Her hand shook and she was staring unsteadily in space. He knew that his words, as much as they needed to be said, had triggered unwanted flashbacks. So he took her shaking hand in his and squeezed it, making sure that she knew that she wasn't alone. He shoved aside thoughts of the emails waiting on his laptop in favour of letting her choke back her sobs of anger and hate, and passed the tissue box when necessary.

When she finally passed out in exhaustion, Jack lifted up Tooth's small form from the chair and carried her back to her room. After laying her down and drawing the covers over her, he noted the half-filled boxes scattered across the carpet. The boy made a mental note to put some effort in helping her after tomorrow. Maybe even make breakfast one day – if anyone trusted his cooking. He had given her quite a number of heart attacks this month, so he'd best make up for it.

As he closed the bedroom door behind him, he was surprised to find Sandy standing there. The small man made no attempt to explain himself, merely putting his hands on his hips and looking expectantly at him.

Jack creased his brow. "You're not serious."

The side of Sandy's lip twitched upward in a mischievous expression that could be read only as _"Weellll…"_

Pushing back his white locks and mumbling how silly this was, Jack whipped out a ten dollar note from his pocket, placing it in Sandy's triumphant grasp. Still feeling peeved, the boy wagged his finger in the air. "We all knew that they had a thing. It was just a matter of _when_!"

Sandy shrugged. _"A bet's a bet. You're still off by three decades."_

"Remind me not to bet anythings against you," Jack grumbled, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. "You always win."

The golden-haired man just put on his most innocent expression.

~~~0~~~~

 _Goat Blood Poriyal (by Tooth)_

 _What you need:_

 _1 cup of Coagulated Goat blood_

 _1.5 tablespoons of Ginger garlic paste_

 _0.25 cup of Soaked Chickpeas_

 _2 Finely-chopped Yellow Onions_

 _1 Finely-chopped Green chilies_

 _0.5 tablespoons of Fennel Seed powder_

 _0.5 tablespoons of Turmeric powder_

 _1 tablespoon of Red chili powder_

 _0.5 teaspoon of salt_

 _20 Curry leaves_

 _2 Tablespoons of Canola Oil_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Add 1/4 cup of water coagulated blood. Cook it separately for 5 minutes. Drain water and let to rest._

 _2)Using a potato masher, mash the blood into smaller pieces._

 _3)Over a hot pan, heat the oil. Add chopped onion. Stir until translucent and slightly browned._

 _4)Add ginger garlic paste, Heat a pan with2 tsp of oil and fry the onion until it sweats thoroughly._

 _5)Add the ginger garlic paste and fry again for 4 minutes, followed by green chilies, curry leaves._

 _6)Leave 2 minutes to cook through._

 _7)Now add in the soaked chickpeas to the seasoning mixture._

 _8)Leave over heat for a while._

 _9) Add in the fennel seed powder, turmeric powder, red chili powder, salt to the mixture and fry well for 2 minutes._

 _10)Dump in the crumbled blood pieces. Mix thoroughly._

 _11)Allow the mixture to simmer until most of the water dries up._

 _12)Serve over rice or eat on its own._

~~~0~~~

"And you should see the posters – they're awesome. I made them – well, Kristoff and I made them. I'm actually really excited. Aren't you? I mean, okay, you can't go tomorrow, but hey, this thing is still pretty awesome! Oh, and Jack's doing a fantastic job as acting president. Well, he in no way replaces you, of course, but he's pretty good with all the responsibility actually. So you need not worry. Just focus on getting better."

Her sister didn't seem the slightest worried, just distracted. "Oh."

Anna frowned as she stabbed her chopsticks into her paper box, clamping them a tad too forcefully on her _chow mien_. Kai was running late at work today, which left the two of them to their own devices. She had bought Chinese takeaway for them, knowing that Elsa would be too sick to cook and herself – well, face it, she was much better at consuming food than making it.

Her sister was visibly paler than she had been in the morning. There was still no fever, and Elsa insisted there was none of the normal signs of flu. No stomaches, no bowel distress, no body aches. In fact, she had insisted that she was just tired.

But that wasn't just the weird thing about her now. No, she would have expected Elsa to have been clawing at her laptop, fixing up the last minute details, pushing herself to her limit. That was her sister – determined, assertive and purposeful. But here, Elsa was just poking at her dinner. It was like the Blood Drive didn't mean anything to her.

"Elsa, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Anna. I wish you'd stop asking that," was the snappish response. Then her sister was back to staring in space again.

The younger girl recalled what Kristoff had told her the day before. That night after Valentine's Day, when she herself was still warded at the hospital, Elsa suddenly had some kind of breakdown in the female toilet. She refused treatment, and claimed it was just stress. After Elsa came home yesterday nights, soaked to the skin and clearly unwell, Anna had been determined to lift some of the load of her sister's shoulders. That's why she begged Jack to take charge of the Drive, though he didn't want to.

But if it was just stress, then why wasn't Elsa getting any better? Why was she still so tired after a day of rest at home? There was something wrong here. Something very wrong.

"Sooooo," Anna still continued with a cheery façade. "How was dinner last night with Jack and the Guardians? You haven't told me about it."

"It was okay." That was incredibly uninformative.

"Were they nice?"

Elsa shrugged. Her eyes were fixed on the window, which just looked out to the driveway. Was she waiting for Kai to get back? Or was she expecting someone else?

"Jack told me the dinner was weird. What did he mean by that?"

"Maybe you should ask him yourself." There should have been more bite in that statement – that would have been more like Elsa. But it was just said in a monotone, lifeless and uninterested.

Anna decided to be a bit more direct. "So, is it official?"

Elsa tossed her platinum blonde tresses over her shoulder, hunching forward over her box of takeout like she was studying it. "What's official?"

"You two. I mean, you've already met his parents." She paused, pondering. "Well, his family."

Her sister raised her head and stared at her. "We're not a couple."

"Well, why not? You both clearly like each other," Anna argued. "What else is there to it?" Probably some silly stubbornness on Elsa's part. She had boyfriend material right in front of her and she wasn't doing _anything_ about it? And here, she didn't have such an opportunity, as much as she had dreamed and wished for true love.

Thinking of true love these days kind of depressed her. Since Valentine's Day, Hans hadn't contacted her at all, and she was starting to wonder if she had dreamed him up. She scrunched her face up. There was something nagging her, at the back of her head, like something that she wasn't piecing together.

Well, enough on her miserable love life, because her sister was finally ready to talk. And all Elsa said was, "Jack and I aren't together. I doubt we're ever going to be. That's all there is to it, Anna."

"That's all?" The younger girl was aghast. "But, why? What's the matter?"

"There're things that won't work between us."

"Like what?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Anna."

"Is it post-grad plans? Differing colleges? Favourites bands? Eating habits?" Anna couldn't help but feel indignant. Why was it she, so eager to find her true love, left empty-handed while her sister, who had a boy literally begging her to be with him, was throwing it all away? It wasn't fair. "What is it, Elsa? What's keeping you having the perfect boyfriend?"

" _I_ _said_ I don't want to talk about it!"

This was emphasised by the slam of Elsa's fist against the table, making everything on the table, as well as Anna, jump. It was only by luck that the takeaway boxes didn't tip themselves over and collapse.

It didn't take long for the blonde girl to cool down. Anger contorted into regret, and Elsa sighed, pressing her fingers to her temple. "I'm sorry," she finally said, shaking her head. "I don't think I'm feeling too good. I'm going to bed." She placed the takeaway box in front of her sister. "You can have the rest of mine."

"Oh. Okay," was all Anna got to say before Elsa departed from the dining room. The girl cast a glance towards the proffered box and was surprised to find that it was virtually untouched.

That night, the younger girl went to bed rather late, for there were name lists to draw up for the drive tomorrow, as well as putting up final touches for the props of the photo booth. As not to disturb her slumbering sister, she did her work downstairs. During that time, Kai had returned, but had gone almost immediately to bed due to his own exhaustion. It was well past midnight when Anna finally gave up on fussing over things for the Drive, and decided it was time to turn in.

After washing her face, brushing her teeth and brushing out her braids, she changed into her nightgown and headed into the bedroom. Elsa was already curled up on her own bed, body facing away from her. Not wanting to startle her sister awake, she crept through the dark and settled on her own bed. Clearing out the mail on her phone, she plugged to a charger before sliding herself under the covers and knocking out.

When Anna woke up, the sun wasn't up yet. In fact, the sky was very, very black, with not a star in sight. Peeking at her phone, she was annoyed to have discovered that it was only 2.23am and yes, she had several more hours of sleep left.

As she lay her phone down and cursed whatever part of her body thought it'd be hilarious for her to wake at such an odd time, the girl happened to peer across the bedroom. Though it was dark, her pupils were well-adjusted enough to note that there was no one in Elsa's bed.

Rubbing her eyes, the girl sat herself up proper, taking a second a glance. Sure enough, she wasn't just seeing thing and Elsa really was missing from her bed. Sitting upright, the girl hopped herself off the bed, glancing down at their open bedroom door. By chance, she passed their window, which looked over the path that led to the road, she saw a moving figure. Rubbing her eyes, she gawked at it.

It was her sister, still in her night gown and her white-gold hair hanging loose behind her head. She seemed to walking towards the forest across the street.

Grabbing her phone, Anna threw a coat over her night dress to protect herself from the chill and slipped on her slippers. She rushed down the stairs, contemplating calling waking her guardian but deciding that it would take too long for Kai to get ready and her sister mightn't appreciate her bringing him into … whatever she was going through. Racing towards the door, she found that her sister hadn't bothered to lock it and dashed out onto the road.

It had just rained, as evident by the wet ground below. A sharp gust blew by, smashing her hair into her face. Anna quickly looped back her messy locks behind her shoulders before plunging into the forest. Immediately, she regretted her choice of footwear, for the fallen brambles and twigs thought it funny to stab themselves against her unprotected feet and the damp on the rotten leaves got stuck to her heel.

Turning on the light on her phone, she treaded carefully through the muddy undergrowth. "Elsa? Are you there?"

There was nothing in her line of sight but trees and shadows. The girl gritted her teeth and moved deeper into the forest. She had been here dozens of times, but never after rainfall and certainly not at nightfall. There were all kind of animals roaming about in the night, and while most of them were reputed to generally harmless, Anna was hardly in the mood to meet any of them.

With how thickly-covered the grown was with leafy litter, there were no footprints that she could follow. So much of her search consisted of yelling out a sister's name and just going on. She didn't know if she was moving in the right direction, but it was better than not moving at all.

"ELSA! Where are you?"

Nothing answered her, except the hooting of an owl somewhere and the humming of crickets. The girl wrapped her coat tighter around her, trying to think optimistic even with all the shadows pressing on her. Truthfully, her detestation of this forest was growing every second and the random sounds echoing around her were really starting to freak her out. She tapped on the screen of her phone, pulling up the phone app and clicked on Kai's name. She needed back up.

Pressing the device against her ear, she waited in the dark, dank forest, forcing herself to hum a cheery tune against the ominous quiet. A few seconds later, she realised that the call wasn't going through, because she couldn't get a signal in the forest.

That didn't seem very good.

She heard a creak behind, so she spun around, lifting her phone up as she did. She ran the light up a tree trunk, then over an overgrown fern, then to the mossy crag that stuck up out of nowhere. There was no sign of anyone or anything.

Suddenly, a large black creature flew into her face, batting its horrid wings against her nose. Shrieking, the girl swatted against it with all her might, her back of her hand colliding against one of its talons – or was it a claw? It was only when it flew away that she realised that it was giant moth. It appeared that using light in forest was not the wisest decision.

Dimming the glow with the palm of her hand, the girl continued her muddy trek through the woods, cursing herself for thinking that this would be a short search. The edges of her nightgown were already stained, her legs with splattered with dirt and the coat, which was far too thin, was doing nothing to help her shivering body.

Out of the blue, she saw a figure in white in the distance. The blonde hair draped over her face seemed familiar.

"Elsa?" There was no response from the figure. Still, Anna tore her way through the greenery and branches, shoving away leaves and overhangs, not caring that her slippers were barely holding together. "Elsa!"

Her sister still didn't move, just standing still in the darkness, gaze fixed forward. She slowly took a step forward, but before she could do anymore, Anna had her hands gripped around her wrist, holding her back. "Elsa! It's me, Anna!"

It was then that she realised that she was holding her sister's wrist – her bare wrist, without gloves. The next thing she noticed was that her sister was still not responding. Her eyes were blank and her face pale – way too pale.

"Elsa." Anna tapped her sister on the shoulder, then grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her hard. "Elsa!"

The blonde girl blinked, her eyes opening wide now. "Anna? What are-" she glanced frantically about her, expression shocked "-wait, where are we?"

"We're in the forest. You walked in here, don't you remember?"

Her sister continued to gaped at their surroundings.

"You don't remember." It dawned upon her. "O.M.G. You were sleeping-walking!" Her phone happened to point down to their feet then. "You're not even wearing shoes."

"I don't understand." Elsa rubbed her eyes, shaking her head. "How did I even-" she stopped briefly, pulling her arm away from Anna"-wait, my gloves. Where are my gloves?"

The girl shrugged. "You weren't wearing them."

"But I always wear them, even when I sleep. How can I-" she clamped her mouth shut then, wrapping a hand around her wrist. "Never mind, let's go back."

"Alright." Anna looped her arm under her sister's, pointing her phone light down on the ground. "You've got no shoes though, so be careful what you're stepping on. Also, I've got no data here, so I'm not completely sure where we'll going."

"Just find a road." Her sister, strangely enough, sounded more like her normal self, even-tempered and practical. "We can work it out from there."

As the two of them began their trek out of the wilderness, however, Anna got a strange feeling that they were being watched.

~~~0~~~

 _Turkish Eggs (by Sandy)_

 _What you Need:_

 _1 cup of Pork blood, with added anti-coagulant_

 _1 tablespoon of sea salt_

 _2 tablespoon of unsalted butter_

 _1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil_

 _1 tablespoon of cayenne pepper_

 _2 fridge cold eggs_

 _2 tsp lemon juice_

 _Parsley or Dill, chopped finely_

 _Pita bread_

 _How to Make it:_

 _1)Fill a small pot deep with water and bring to the boil._

 _2)Place the blood into a heatproof bowl large enough to sit over the pot and sprinkle in salt._

 _3)Place the bowl over the pan and stir blood until it reaches body temperature._ _4)Melt the butter gently in a separate small saucepan until it is just beginning to turn hazelnut-brown._

 _5)Remove from heat, add oil and pepper. Set aside._ _6)Line a large plate with kitchen paper._ _7)Crack the first egg into a small fine mesh strainer. Let the drain out the water egg white drip into the sink. Swirl gently in mesh._

 _8)Add lemon onto the egg, aiming mainly for the white._

 _9)When the saucepan in step on just starts to simmer, lower the egg into the water. Turn heat down to avoid movement in water. Leave for 3-4 minutes._

 _11)Removed egg from pot using a slotted spoon._

 _10)Repeat this step for as many eggs as desired._

 _12)Pour blood mixture onto the lined plate, and add eggs onto of it. Add peppering butter sauce and serve with warm pita bread._

~~~0~~~

Rapunzel had, earlier on, presented to him three options to conquer a vampire's enhanced sense of smell.

First, she could cut open his skull and slice off the nerve in his face that connected the smell receptors in his nose with his brain. That, she assured him, would ensure that he'll never get a whiff of blood again, and by extension, not go into a feeding craze. That could be rather problematic, however, since it might damage his sense of taste permanently, which might be lead him never be sated by his meals, blood or no blood.

The second was that he could simple wear a medical face mask. That option was appealing, since it wouldn't be that alarming to see a person wearing such a mask in a donation drive, what with all the healthcare workers milling around. The problem was that the common type was not always airtight, and even if he wore the airtight one, he would need to constantly adjust it to make sure it was strapped on right. In other words, it was too suspicious, and still too risky.

The third one was what they eventually settled on. It involved making an old witch's recipe for a sense-numbing drug. It involved creating a paste from a short, but complicated, set of ingredients. Fortunately, the doctor had most in her possession, and they had managed to make the paste under two hours. At the end, however, the paste was not consumed, but was to be set aflame. It fumes were then supposed to be inhaled for an hour straight. The effects would then no longer than twelve hours. They had opted for this, being the safest and most secure option.

Well, sort of safe, at least.

"You alright in there?"

His chest heaved forward as the contents of his stomach were emptied into the toilet bowl. When the bout passed, he let out a long groan while running a hand back through his hair. It was pretty disturbing how everything that he regurgitated was brown in colour and smelled very strongly of iron. It was even more disturbing that he was throwing up at all, because he hadn't done such a thing since he had been turned. That paste mixture, whatever it was, was as potent a potion could get.

Jack covered his nose while slamming the flush button. Just this morning alone, he had thrown up four times – twice back home, and twice after reaching school. The first two times, it had been at the smell of breakfast. The scent of iron at the table, which was supposed to be a sweet wondrous thing, was the trigger for the first bout, then the second. The ones at school just came from looking at the image of the blood bag in Anna's pamphlets.

On the bright side, the paste was working, because for now, nothing was less appealing to him than blood.

Eventually, he did emerge from the toilet cubicle to find Kristoff pacing about there, not looking very pleased. "In case you didn't realise, we're got a donation drive to run."

"Alright, alright," Jack muttered, heading towards the sink. "Just let me wash rinse my mouth, won't you? Unless you prefer me to scare off the volunteers."

The blood donation drive was a full day event, and since it was a school day, all lessons and activities were continued as normal. However, the school was a good deal more crowded than it used to be, for outsiders had been permitted on campus, provided that they were heading towards the gym and looked able and healthy enough to potentially lose a tenth of their current blood supply. Because of how much attention the event had garnered in the town, the principal had given the three remaining members of SASS leave from class, urging them to focus on running the programme as smoothly as possible. Other students who had offered to help out were also granted similar privilege. So there turned out to be a lot of hands on deck, lightening the load considerably.

But coordinating everything still fell under the society president's belt, and since Elsa was unavailable, it was now left to Jack to ensure everything went well. Need more chairs? His problem. Need more ice containers for the blood? His problem. Ensuring that the IDs matched the names and faces of the persons who signed up? Well, that was technically Anna's job, but he had no doubt that he might be roped into that thing next.

While he was in the midst of helping Kristoff set up a donation station, he heard his name called by a squeaky voice, "Um, sorry to bother, but do you know where I can find a person called 'Elsa Arendelle'?'"

He set down the table that he had just hauled over, spun around to find the person only to see that there was no one there, until he dipped his head down.

A young boy was staring up at him, no older than eleven and definitely too young to be donating blood. His hair was mousy sort of brown, and his round face was speckled with freckles. There was a gap in his front teeth, and his eyes were sort of blend of hazelnut and oak. He was not a very remarkable-looking boy for his age, but there was something about him that made Jack freeze – something old, something familiar…

The white-haired vampire shook himself out of his freeze, telling little lad, "Elsa's sick today, I'm afraid. I'm taking her place for now." Sticking his hand out, he introduced himself, "Jack F. Guardian."

The boy returned it with a firm handshake. "Jamie Bennett."

Then it clicked. The brown hair. The thin, gangly arms. _Bennett_. Could it – no, no. What were the chances? Bennett was a common name, and there was no reason for his sister's descendants to cross the Atlantic. Yet, at certain angle, he could almost imagine a younger version of his sister in the place of the young boy.

Swallowing, Jack peeled his hand away from that of the other boy, locking away all the excitement that was bursting in him. "So, um,-" he stuck his hands in his hoodie, trying to play it as cool as possible. He hoped the kid wasn't a mind-reader, because his mind was currently playing all the swear words that he knew on a loop "-how can I help you?"

"Right." The boy glanced down at the sheet that he had in his hand – a letter, it seemed. "Erm, the hospital kind of invited me to come give a speech or something, and told me to find her."

Jack whipped his phone – the new one that Sandy got for him, since he had lost the other one last Saturday – and rolled down to the programme schedule. Apparently, there was a 'guest speaker' due at 2.30pm, after the school band finished up their performance at the waiting area. It was a way of keeping volunteers entertained, while attracting others into the gym and, hopefully, to donate. Since it was already two, might as well get him prepped.

Waving at the boy to follow him to the stage at the waiting area, the nagging curiosity prompted Jack to inquire, "Did you come here yourself?"

The boy nodded. "Mum had to work. The bus ride wasn't too long though."

"Your dad?"

Jamie seemed to become a little more solemn. "He's ... passed on when I was younger."

"Oh." And there it was, another descendant that he outli _\- no, no_. It mightn't be true. He didn't know for sure. He needed more information. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's alright." Jamie didn't appear upset. Perhaps he didn't know the man too well himself, and his solemnity was just for formality. "He had thalassemia major too, actually."

The older boy blinked. "Thalassemia what?"

"Thalassemia major." Seeing Jack's puzzled expression, Jamie explained, "It's a blood condition where the red blood cells aren't formed properly, so the body ends up destroying a lot of them. It causes anaemia and stuff. I've to go for transfusion every three weeks, or I'll get really sick. Check it out." He drew up the sleeve of his dirty green jumper, proudly displaying the plaster on his pit of elbow. "Just went yesterday. Mum calls them my battle scars."

"Wow." Jack led him to the side of the performance stage, where the school band was still performing. There were a couple of chairs on the side that were unoccupied, so both of them sat themselves down there. "And you said that you have to go every three weeks?"

"Yep." The boy nodded, his eyes widening at the sight of the school band. They weren't honestly much good, in Jack's opinion, but Jamie wasn't the one who owned a pair of extremely sensitive ears. "It's takes about four hours each time, I guess, but it's not so bad. I get to watch TV or read instead of going school. In fact, -" he lowered his voice conspiratorially "-I didn't even tell my teacher why I was missing class today. They think it's just cause I've gone for transfusion."

"Uh-huh." The odd grown-up part of him that Jack often locked away wondered if he should reprimand him. "Is there any chance of cure?"

"Only if I have matching a bone marrow donor. Sophie and my mum don't match, so it'll have to be from someone else." Jamie swung his legs back and forth on his seat, staring at the ground. There was a smile on his lips, but it was sorrowful, almost resigned. "The people running the program haven't found one yet, so we're still waiting."

"Oh." Desiring to change the subject, Jack scrambled for something else instead. "Well, it's pretty brave of you to want to want to give a speech about blood donation. I think we'll really move some hearts if they hear it coming from you."

"Well, I don't feel that brave, to be honest." The boy drew out a small card from his pocket, all covered with squiggles that Jack couldn't decipher. "Just asking your opinion though – do you think I should share a joke in the speech?"

The older boy pressed his lips together, before answering very slowly, "That would depend on the joke."

Jamie then flipped his card over and read on the other side, a grin dancing on his lips. "Why did the artist bring a sketchpad to the blood donation?"

The white-haired boy pondered for a moment, but couldn't think of anything. "Why?"

"He wanted to help the nurses draw his blood."

Jack went really quiet.

"Is it too corny?" Jamie winced. "I went through a few different jokes on the internet, but none of them felt as good as this, but my mum said that people mightn't get it." The boy removed a pencil from his pant pocket. "Maybe I should scrap-"

"No." The older boy's mien was unreadable as he stopped him from editing the card. "It's perfect."

The joke was actually ridiculous and incredibly lame. It was also the kind of dumb nonsense that he himself would have probably attempted.

The little lad was still a little nervous about his impending presentation though, so Jack let him run through the contents of his sharing to him. When the boy went on the stage, somehow the vampire's enhanced hearing missed the buzzing on his phone that called him to get back to work. Instead, he sat by the stage, entranced by the simple speech made by the young boy. Its contents, he cared not for in the slightest, for Jamie could be talking about boiling potatoes for all he knew. But as Jack watched, he felt a curiously warm sensation in his chest, as the hidden aches of his heart were being soothed. Though logic doubted that coincidence could be so perfect, his mind could not help projecting Emma's spirit and manner on the little brunette lad. Regardless of proof, or rather the lack thereof, the desire to believe in a connection with this boy overwhelmed his doubts.

When Jamie completed his task, Jack felt a curious surge of happiness within him, and he realised it was pride. Not the arrogant type, or the confident type, but the kind that was rooted in an emotion that vampires weren't supposed to feel.

So without really knowing it, he shot up to his feet and began to clap, cheer and whoop in a fashion that would have been embarrassing coming from a parent, and just really weird from a random teenager. But Jack was neither of those, and due to his nonfunctional sense of self-preservation, continued his cheer marathon so enthusiastically that everyone in the gym was forced to respond similarly. The applause that came was so uproariously blaring that all ongoing classes took a five-minute break. The tutors couldn't even hear themselves think.

The young lad on the stage blushed, a little stunned by how well his speech was received. As Jamie stepped down from the platform, he turned immediately to the white-haired lad. "Was that alright?"

"Alright? It was brilliant!" It took every bit of self-control to keep himself from embracing the kid. "Now, I'm not too sure about the whole Thalassemia thing, but can you eat ice cream?"

~~~0~~~

"Your results will be back on-" the doctor swerved her mouse while squinting at her computer screen "-Friday. I'll give a call if there's anything wrong."

"Okay." She rubbed the plaster on her forearm. "Is that all?"

"Mmm, yep." A plastic smile appeared on the doctor's face. "Have a nice day, and pay at the counter."

Her visit to the town clinic proven quite uninformative. Without fever, cold or anything kind of pain, the doctor had told her that it was difficult to narrow down the diagnosis. Other than her skin pallor and tiredness, she didn't seem to be ill. "Perhaps just an iron deficiency, though at your age and the fact that you seem relative healthy, I think it might just be mild one," the doctor had told her after taking her blood. "I could prescribe supplements, but I believe that it's far better for if you could find adjust your diet to your new needs. At least, till we're detected the underlying cause."

As she departed the clinic, with the receipt of bill tucked in her pocket, the nurse at the reception handed her a pamphlet on iron-rich foods. She flipped open as she headed down to the bus stop. Beef, liver _– yuck!_ , lentils, sardines, raw spinach, _oh_! There was dark chocolate even. Interesting.

Since she wasn't going to school today anyway, she figured she might as well head to the supermarket and buy some of these foods. Maybe she could try making something, with all the free time on her hands.

The supermarket, as it happened, wasn't opened that day, so she opted for the Asian store next door. It was slightly more expensive, with everything being imported, but not that much. Maybe she would just give up and just end up eating ramen. In fact, when she passed the ramen isle, she grabbed two large bags of instant ramen packs dropped straight into her basket. It wasn't very heavy. She threw in a pack of Chinese spinach, fresh spring onion and a pack of ginger. She grabbed a small sesame oil and rice vinegar set that was offer, and after some thought, a packet of some shabu-shabu pork. It was a tad pricy, but hey, she was sick according to Anna. A little pampering wouldn't hurt.

Just before she headed to the counter, she paused at the frozen food section, finding herself staring intently at a plastic container holding a dark red substance. She picked it off the shelf, examining it for a label, but apparently it didn't have one. So Elsa went up to the counter, and asked the cashier, "Sorry, but what is this?"

The moody teen manning the counter didn't even look up from his phone. "Pig blood."

"How much is it?"

The price was ridiculously cheap – cheaper than the spinach even. That was the only reason why she bought it. That, and she was curious.

It was only after she emerged from the store that she realised her dilemma – she had to carry these groceries all the way back home, which included a bus ride and a long walk. For someone who was supposed to be as practical as she, she really didn't think this through.

"Good morrow to you, my dear."

She was surprised to have encountered him again so soon, but then again, it was a small town.

"Oh, hello." It only occurred to her then that she didn't know his name, nor had he ever asked her for hers.

"I see that you've made some purchases," the tall, pale man in the black coat observed, glancing down at the carrier bags she was dragging along with her. The afternoon sun was pretty bright, so he had opted to shade himself with a huge black umbrella. His cane was tucked under his arm, as it always was. "You intend carry these home yourself?"

"Well, yes." Elsa felt a little annoyed at his dismissive perceptions of her ability, but then again, her arms were getting tired. Part of her was starting to regret her little shopping escapade. "I've done it before."

"Undoubtedly." The smile that he granted her was indulgent, and it was clear that he didn't really believe her. He peered over his shoulder and frowned, though for reasons that she didn't really understand. Before she could inquire on it, the odd gentleman in black said, "Perhaps I could offer you a ride home?"

She blinked. "You have a car?" For some reason, she couldn't actually imagine him driving one – it didn't go with outfit.

The corner of his mouth twitched up. "Not exactly."

He helped with her bags, scooping them up in a single hand without so much as asking her permission. She frowned, but nonetheless allowed him to lead her away from the line of stores, away from the parking lots and away from the roads. When they reached the edge of the woods, Elsa was starting to get a little puzzled about this 'ride' that he was talking about, and wondered if he was just making it up.

That was, until she saw the horse.

"This is Sergei," the strange pale man introduced her to sleek black creature. It was a beauty of a beast, with dark ebony hair and gleaming skin.

She had never been to inclined to animals before, yet she couldn't help but run her gloved finger through its silky mane. "He's yours?"

"Yes."

"And you rode him all the way here from-?" The strange man had never told her where he was from either, though most people would have assumed the UK by accent alone. Having a horse, however, seemed to throw that possibility out of the window.

"Actually, I didn't. As it happens, Sergei just finds me whenever I need him." Under the shade of the trees, the pale man had lowered his umbrella, and now was in the process of tying that, as well as her grocery bags and cane, to the back of the saddle. "Have you ridden before?"

The girl shook her head.

"What mankind has loss with their automobiles," she heard him murmur scornfully under his breath, before telling her, "Well, it's no difficult task, and you need not fear." He stepped on the stirrup, alighting the horse in one smooth movement. "I will not let you be harmed."

He held a hand out to her – a thin, pale hand. Upon the back of the beast, which was whinnying and snorting, it struck that he looked quite distinguished, regal even. While his strange behaviour and odd clothes seemed ridiculous in town, he seemed quite at home here.

Ordinarily, she would have never accepted this offer, but the mode of transport intrigued more than she would admit. So she placed her gloved hand in his.

He helped her up, letting her sit in front of him. It was only then that she realised how high a fall would be, and it was a good thing that his arms, almost locked tightly by her sides to grasp the reins, kept her from tipping over.

"You might want to hold on," was his cryptic advice as he twisted the reins in his grasp. Sergei seemed to neigh in agreement.

That was all the warning she got before he dug his stirrup into the flanks of the beast.

She had never ridden a horse all her life, but she felt that it was safe to say that the creature was fast, if not faster, than any vehicle she had ever sat on. Her gracious benefactor didn't let the creature follow the road, but diverted it to plunge straight into the woods, across its leaf-littered surface and through its thick brambles. She immediately grabbed onto the sides of the saddle for dear life, biting her tongue just to keep from screaming. Her stomach jolted in time with the gallops, and worsened only as the terrain got steeper.

Yet, there was something thrilling about the danger. While it felt that her life was balancing on a precipice, there was also a rush of adrenaline. The blur in her eyes suddenly cleared, and she realised that she could see everything around her with shocking clarity. Even though she knew they were going at nearly impossible speeds, she could see the way the branches waved overhead, could hear how the leaves rustled underfoot. She could see the shadows flittering about under the shady greens, and the spots of light deflected whenever they passed. She found herself picking out all the woodland creatures hiding about – the squirrels sneaking across a branch, the woodpecker that had landed in one of the trees, a wasp zipping back its nest. At a distance, she could here the gurgling of running creek. Just minutes ago, she had felt fatigued and uninterested. But now, the whole world had come to life.

Elsa barely noticed when they had emerged from the forest, for she was still too overwhelmed by all the sensory information she had been fled. It had taken his voice to jolt her back to reality. "I believe this is your residence?"

The girl rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand to find that, yes, they had indeed arrive at Fjord Avenue. He lead his horse nearer to the porch before dismounting. Straightening up his robes, he then proceeded to help her off Sergei – in fact, he had almost completely lifted her off the saddle and placed her down on the ground as if she weighed nothing more than a child.

"Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?" His head tilted enquiringly at her as he helped unhook her grocery bags from the saddle.

"No. No, it wasn't. In fact-" she pursed her lips, wondering if she should reveal so. In the end, she didn't see any harm in it "-I quite liked it."

There was an odd gleam in his eye, something bordering between surprise and pleasure. "I'm glad to hear that." Straightening his coat once more – he quite liked doing that, she noticed - he dipped his head briefly at her while reaching for the saddle.

In her, she felt a curious compulsion to speak out. She didn't know where it was coming from, but it was strong, almost like a voice whispering in her ear. "Wait!"

He paused, at she had requested. His head tilted inquiringly to the side.

Elsa was surprised that he did stop, and now that he did, she could barely get the words out. "Would you like to – I mean, my sister won't be home till late, and my guardian is kind – well, he's, I mean- and I'll take something to make it – I'll try, and it won't be fancy or any-" she cleared her throat "-would you like to stay for dinner?"

The whole scenario felt strangely 'Anna', and very, very unlike herself.

Yet the pale stranger, whose name still escaped her, appeared quite delighted with the proposed meal, almost as if he had been hoping for it the whole time. "That sounds quite lovely."

~~~0~~~

 _Blood Burger (by Bunny)_

 _What you need:_

 _1 Sliced Tomato_

 _1 Head of Lettuce, Shredded_

 _5 Slices of Sharp Cheddar Cheese_

 _5 Slices of Smokey Monterey Jack Cheese_

 _2 Sliced Onions_

 _1 Cup of Cow or Pig Blood_

 _5 Burger Buns_

 _3 Tablespoons of Mayonnaise_

 _5 Tables spoon of Tomato sauce_

 _2 Tablespoon of Butter_

 _3 Tablespoon of Canola Oil_

 _Salt & Pepper to taste_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)In a saucepan, sautéed the onions until transparent in oil. Pour in the blood and allow to broil until blood solidifies. Stir in oil until pieces are slightly firm, but still moist. Add salt and pepper._

 _2)Remove from heat. Pour the blood into circle molds and pack them in as firmly as possible. Put these in the fridge for 30 minutes._

 _3)Slice Tomato into thick, length-wise slices._

 _4)Shred the lettuce with a knife. Mix with Mayonnaise evenly._

 _5)Remove molds from fridge and press out the blood patties. Press them between towels to remove water._

 _6)Heat oil in a frying pan and add a tablespoon of butter. Swirl in pan_

 _7)Lower the patties onto the oil. Sear for 3 minutes, then turn over._

 _8)Add one slice of each cheese on top of the patties. Allow sizzle for another minute. Pepper generously._

 _9)Slice buns into half. Butter each side._

 _10)On a separate pan, set the bun face-down on the pan surface until the bun undersides are crunchy and brown._

 _11)Assemble burger in the following fashion - bun, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, blood patty with cheese, tomato sauce, bun._

 _12)Serve with fries or salad._

~~~0~~~

"And then I was flying in the air – straight over the cars and everything. And it was like-" the boy made some sound effects that vaguely resembled space movie noises "-and all my friends were like-" he widened his eyes and hung his jaw loose "-and then I was like- like screaming, really, really loud, but I was scared, but it was awesome. And then I landed on the snow in front of the Teddy Burgess like that-" he slammed his arms on the table for emphasis, almost knocking over his now empty cup of ice cream "-and actually everything was okay. Until I got hit by a couch."

Jack drew back sharply, jaw tightening. "What?"

"Oh, but I wasn't hurt. Not very badly, anyway." Jamie was quick to assuage his fear. "I just lost a tooth. See this?" He pointed at his tooth-gap. "It was straight in the face – _boom_! My mum scolded me loads afterwards, and since then I haven't been allowed near a toboggan."

"That sucks," the older boy said sympathetically. Tobogganing through a Burgess winter was pretty fun, especially in the woods were all the steep inclines were. Of course, kids weren't allowed to do that so often anymore, since the terrain proved too brutal for them. Doing it on the streets, however, wasn't exactly the safer option, but it seemed that the little brunette lad took after him in terms of risky thrills.

The knowledge of that was very much bitter-sweet.

"Your phone is buzzing." Jamie thumbed the cellphone, which had sat virtually untouched on the table since the beginning of their conversation.

Sighing, Jack picked up the messages and switched on the screen. As he scrolled down the notifications, he was alarmed to note all miss calls – and the messages.

 _(Kristoff) 2.56pm: We need more chairs at waiting area._

 _(Kristoff) 3.14pm: Nvm, finish setup. Thks for the help._

 _(Anna) 3.20pm: Hey, I need to check – can a pregnant woman sign up for blood donation?_

 _(Anna) 3.23pm: Okay, googled it. Apparently, no._

 _(Anna) 3.24pm: Phew_

 _(Anna) 3.39pm: Actually where r u?_

 _(Kristoff) 3.46pm: Hey, where are you? The organisers need to speak to you._

 _(Kristoff): 3.47pm: Hello?_

 _(Kristoff): 3.47pm: ^_

 _(Kristoff): 3.48pm: Seriously?_

He only got that far when the phone buzzed again, this time with Kristoff's name flashing in front. Jack answered it, "Hello?"

" _WHERE ARE YOU?"_

He jerked back, his sharp ears rattled from the blaring feedback. Gingerly sticking the phone back over his ear, he said, "In the canteen." He glanced that out his and Jamie's empty ice-cream cups. "Chilling."

" _GET YOUR BUTT BACK HERE! WE ARE DROWNING HERE!"_

"Okay, okay." Jack removed himself from the bench, feeling a little guilty for all the trouble he had caused his friends. Just as he was about to depart, he suddenly remembered his young friend.

Jamie, however, was clearly a very independent young fellow. "Oh, you should go, I'll clear our stuff."

That wasn't really what Jack was worried about, but he didn't know how to verbalise it, not with the brunette lad gazing so innocently at him, and with Kristoff spilling swears into his ear. So he whipped out a pen in his pocket, grabbed the wooden spoon in his ice cream cup and scribbled on his phone number. "Here." He handed the stick the boy. "If you ever need help in anything – and I mean anything – just contact me."

"Oh." The boy gazed down at the peculiar gift. "Thanks?"

Jack didn't have time to bid him farewell properly, because Kristoff's voice suddenly became weirdly high-pitched, _"Jack, are you there?"_

It took him a few seconds really who was speaking now. "Anna?"

" _Yeah, um, we've got a bit of a problem."_

"What?" He spun away from the boy and broke into sprint, speeding down the canteen and pushing past people. He launched himself forward, hurtling through passed the classroom, passed the locker corridors.

" _My laptop crashed, and all the data's that we have was in it-"_

"WHAT?" Okay, so it was really irresponsible for him to go off an chat with the young lad on his own...

" _-but it's okay,"_ the girl hurried on to say. _"I got it backed up in a cloud online, so we can survive this if we have another com. Did you bring yours?"_

He swerved around, racing back to the corner of lockers where his own was located. "Yeah, but why not use Kristoff's first?"

" _He gave it to the nurses to key in their data. I need another one for registration."_

"Alright, I'll bring it over once I got it." With that he hung up, just in time as he found his locker. Turning the knobs of the lock, he unhooked the metal latch from its spot and opened up the door.

If his sense had been numbed by the potent potion he had inhaled earlier that morning, his sharp, vampirific sense of smell might have been warned him. He wouldn't have been able to do anything to change it, but he would have at least known better than to open his locker with so many students around the locker corridor.

But it was too late now. For when he yanked the metal door open, something large, heavy and wet fell on to him. In his shock, he stepped back, allow the object _plonk!_ to the ground.

No, not object. _Body._

The entire school cohort froze as the limp lump smacked onto the granite floor, and when reality hit their minds, screams and shouts echoed everywhere.

Jack gazed down on the crimson smear on his hands, then down at the decapitated corpse lying in a puddle of fresh, thick blood before him. He glanced back to the locker, and found Merida's stony blue eyes staring at him.

~~~0~~~

 **You know, I never expected myself to write the horror genre.**

 **In fact, this was going to be a happy, chirpy story about sarcastic vampires. Then…I went to watch clips from Hitchcock films at night. If anyone has ever told you that old movies aren't scary, they're idiots.** _ **Psycho**_ **is a classic for a reason. That said, it has given me some inspiration for the rest of the plot.**

 **WHY DO I WRITE THESE STORIES AT THESE TIMES OF THE NIGHT? MY IMAGINATION IS ALREADY TOO WILD.**

 **Guest (Nov3): Yep, I did update wrongly at first, but I changed it back soon after. Very sharp of you to catch that so quickly.**

 **TQ: Go ahead and bang your head on the wall. In the chapter, things have only gotten worse, and yes, they will get worse.**

 **Alene Mask (Nov4): I believe the term you're looking for is 'dramatic irony', a common device in Shakespearean plays that made his stories so frustrating, and yet alluring. Hope your Nanowrimo works out. The last time I tried to do it, I gave up after the second day. You might not encounter romance, but romance might encounter you nonetheless.**

 **I'm so pumped for the next few chapters. So much plot unfolding! Muhahaha!**


	13. Chapter 13

In all his life, he had never known such a peaceful place.

The weather was freezing, even by vampire standards. For indeed, they were high in the mountains, where the snow was impossibly dense and the winds impossibly frigid. No road existed that would lead them up, and all had trusted in Bunny's direct sense to get them to the top of the mountain. There, on the top of the great Mountain of 'Himmaleh', was the paradise called the Lunar Lamadary.

The men that resided here were mortal, in the physical sense, but their gentle, reserved manners were so refined that they couldn't seem to be anything other than beyond this world. They ate nothing but vegetables and rice - boiled and not the slightest seasoned – and seemed perfectly content with it. They spent hours in mediation, reciting from their holy books and studying the many scrolls flooded in their library. They were kindly, hospitable folk that made sure that their bloodsucking guests were comfortable in their accommodations.

Truthfully, Jack stood out like a sore thumb. His skin was fair and his eyes were blue, compared to the olive hues of their skin and the sparkling opals of their eyes. What more, he had no idea what language they were speaking, so communication was impossible. They would smile slightly whenever he gazed upon a new ritual or an unfamiliar object in dismay, before showing him what to do and how to act.

No blood could be shed on the mountain, which meant that himself and his four fellow vampires, had to descend for feeding before returning back to the Lamadary grounds. It was a tiresome activity, and earnestly, he had begun to loathe the taste of goat blood. It was better than the alternative, his conscience conceded. But the unhappiness that he had during his stay in Calcutta had returned, though he loathed to admit it.

He wasn't completely sure why he still was with these pacifist vampires (for a lack of better name). He didn't think they were terrible, and at times they could be good company (that quiet fellow, Sandy, was an amusing opponent in chess), but he couldn't bring himself to throw his lot with them. He knew that they were firm believers in what they were a part of – whatever it was – and they wanted him to become one of them. They had explained it to him many times, and the arguments were not completely illogical. Yet, at the same time, he could feel his very flesh being repulsed by all they suggested, and even his sound mind found their ideals a little too lofty. It was a lot of 'moral duty' and 'betterment of the world' was a little too overwhelming.

One snowy evening, when they had been engaged indoors locked in such a philosophical discussion, they had invited him to join. He had declined, citing the desire to explore the grounds. However, the truth was that with his speed as vampire, he had in fact gone over the Lamadary grounds at least five times, and there was nothing left in it that really interested him anymore.

"How's the view from there?"

He glanced down from his spot, which was a long, winding branch of a barren birch. There stood the small, baby-faced, balding old fellow that was the 'Great' Manny Lunar.

The 'Great' was in apostrophes because, honestly, he had no idea what was so great about Manny Lunar. Tooth liked to gab on about him a lot. North was always going off to ask him for his opinion over every tiny thing – should red be worn on a day-to-day basis? Was eating fine foods wrong? Was it advisable to get swords, because he really wanted a nice pair of scimitars - you think? Bunny didn't say much about Manny, but when he did, it was always with respect, like the way one would say 'sir' or 'milord'. Sandy didn't say anything at all, because he couldn't speak, but expression alone was enough to convey the reverence and loyalty he felt. Manny would regard Sandy in a similar way too, and Jack suspected that their relationship was more along the lines of brothers-in-arms rather than leader and follower.

But to himself, well, Manny was just a nice, albeit odd fellow, who liked drinking his hot tea out in the cold, chatting with monks in the Lamadary over the literature and charting constellations, as if the stars themselves could speak. Jack didn't really understand what his function was in the grand scheme of…whatever, but if it wasn't for his lack of heartbeat, Jack wouldn't have thought Manny a vampire at all. In fact, sometimes, he actually forgot, since the old fellow never joined them for feeding.

"Got some branches in the way, but it's alright," he called back down. Jack continued to lean back against the trunk of birch, hoping the body language was sufficient to communicate 'I'm being polite, but I'm not really interested in conversation, so please leave me alone. Thanks'.

Unfortunately for him, the bumbling, bald man was terrible at body language. Either that, or he was deliberately ignoring the signals. "Maybe you should try it from down here then."

"But here's nearer to the sky," Jack laughed, crossing his legs over each other.

"Perhaps." Manny shrugged. "But sometimes you need the distance to get a better picture."

He didn't have any arguments against that.

Reluctantly, Jack hopped off his branch, landing deftly on his feet. As he straightened himself up, the boy couldn't help comparing their heights. Manny was only just a bit taller than Sandy, which meant that he was at least a head shorter than himself. His round figure and unassuming air made him so helplessly harmless in appearance. Perhaps that kind of matched his character.

Manny beamed at him, before gesturing him to follow him down the orchard. So Jack did, wondering what the bald man intended.

As they strolled side by side, his uninvited companion gestured up to the black night above. "There. As I promised – the stars."

Jack peered up at the speckled white spots in the distance, before gazing down at the eccentric fellow with a quizzical look.

As if hearing the unasked question, Manny said, "I think by now it would be no mystery to you of how much I admire the constellations. Before I was turned, I had a huge yearning to study them.. And now, I have the privilege to do so." There was a wry smile on his face. "I've always been one for isolation. I'm quite capable of going decades on decades without speaking to a soul – so absorbed I can be, in my study." He sighed, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wonder if it's just an escape from the truth of my unnatural nature. Yet, I know, that escape is but a temporary course, if not followed with solutions."Jack was starting to wonder if there was point this when Manny suddenly turned towards, saying quite pointedly, "I wonder if that might be your story."

The white-haired lad glanced sharply up at him.

"North told me that you've been around for nearly a century, and yet from what I've observed, you seem quite ill at ease about your condition."

"My condition? You make it sound like a disease."

"In some way, it might be."

"Well, there are those who think it's a privilege." Jack thought back to his encounters with the macabre, yet oddly charismatic vampire king.

"Well, both might be simultaneously true and false," was Manny's strange reply. "We have been gifted with remarkable strength, speed, and longevity too. Yet, we also suffer. All else passes away; friends, loved-ones-" Jack masked the tremour of his hands by clenching them in his coat "-allies. Only we remain, prisoners to appetite and violence, to purposeless and wasting. While our bodies last, our souls do not. As every year passes, it becomes harder and harder to recall our humanity."

He could barely remember what he looked like with brown hair, brown eyes and tanner skin. "So that's it, then? It's pointless." When his companion gazed at him confused, he elaborated, "Trying to hold onto our humanity. I mean, time's gonna win out." He groaned, rolling his head back. "Maybe we should just let those hunters kill us. The world would be better would be without creatures like us." As much as he feared the sight of the sharp swords and sharper stakes, being killed would put an end to much of his problems. His shoulders sank. He was tired – so very tired.

"Perhaps." Manny nodded. "Perhaps the world would be better without vampires. The world would probably better be without humans, too, actuallyl. If self-destruction is our only solution, I'd have to say that we haven't thought hard enough."

Jack's brow quirked at the odd phrasing.

"Dying's hard. Living's harder. Being at the cross-road between the two is the very worst. But in the worst of circumstances is also what brings out the best in us – whether human or nosferatu. Under this condition we have, I dare to think that it might be, rather than a curse, a second chance."

"A second chance? For what?"

"To live." His smile was mysterious. "To give what we could not give before." He turned around, indicating to Jack to the same. He waved over to the stone houses with their slanted roofs, glowing lights evident from the windows. "When I first came out here to the Himmaleh, I had done so in order to isolate myself. One morning, I found a throng of children lost in the snow. They were from a monastery that had collapsed in itself during a blizzard, and having nowhere to go, so they had wandered in the mountains. They would have frozen to death otherwise. So I built lodging for them and made sure they were fed. They gained an interest in the stars, so I taught them. I taught all they knew, and soon the elders taught the youngers ones, and when those grew up, they taught those younger than they. Those who travelled sometimes brought back orphans from the street or other abandoned children. They nursed and fed them back to health, and they stayed on. I might have come here to study the stars, but instead I learned what I did not manage to learn as a human."

"What?"

"To love." Manny's face almost seemed to glow in the moonlight. "To have compassion and kindness. To care for a fellow being as oneself."

"But I thought vampires can't love," Jack's thoughts floated to the vampire princess Emily Jane, so beautiful and yet so bitter.

"It doesn't come naturally, for some more than others." The bald fellow kept his statement vague purposely. "But it can be learned, through experiencing it oneself and giving it."

As Jack digested this thought, he couldn't help wondering about a teeny plot-hole in Manny's tale. "Um, can I ask a question?"

"By all means."

"Have you ever wanted to feed on these-" he gestured towards the houses "-I mean, you live in such close proximity with them and all that, and I hardly see you feed-"

"Ah, yes." Manny let out a light-hearted chuckle, like he had been expecting this. "Well, in my time of isolation, I had learned to feed on the blood of animals, and learned how to drink copious amounts of tea along with that. I had studied my diet carefully, and found that it was possible to lower my intake of blood gradually by taking my mind off feeding. I trained myself to feed only at certain times, and only in certain amounts. It took decades for the tiniest decrease, but it has worked. As of today, I haven't fed since-" he scrunched his face up "-three months ago. If I'm not wrong, my next need to feed would be two months from now."

Jack's jaw fell open. He felt a surge of respect for the bald old fellow before him.

"It's hard work, and the temptation is real," Manny admitted, "but it is possible."

"Is that what Bunny's been working on?" Jack could recall that time when the fore-mentioned vampire had given some speech in the Necropolis about research.

"He's trying to find alternatives. Not many vampires are interested in diet plan that doesn't involved immediate satisfaction. It would be unrealistic to hope they would train themselves the way I did. Even I wouldn't go through the process again, if I knew how long I'd take."

Manny shuddered briefly as he recalled those days, before continuing, "No, he, as well as some other colleagues I have across the globe, are searching for various methods of feeding while avoid killing humans and increasing the satiety of animal blood. Many have dabbled in magic – a dangerous field that yields very little success. Witches are not the most trustworthy folks around."

The bald fellow shook his head disapprovingly. "Bunny's the only I know who has experimented with human foods. A daring enterprise, but the most promising so far. He mightn't be able to conduct the large scale experiment that we had hoped for, not without the financial and resource support. But we might be able to conduct a small group study of sorts." He seemed thoughtful as he turned to Jack, "Might you be interested participate?"

Before Jack could answer, or even consider, this out-of-the-blue offer, a frantic figure came rushing towards them. It was one of the monks from the Lamadary. He paid Jack no mind, speaking hastily to Manny instead. Whatever he said made the old fellow stiffen up. For the first time since he had arrived, Jack noted an expression that almost bordered on anger upon on the gentle vampire's face.

Without waiting to explain himself, Manny took off in the snow, his inhuman speed leaving no tracks in the snow. Leaving the flustered monk behind, Jack followed suit, sprinting after him.

There was a bit of commotion at the gate of Lamadary, and in fact, there was no more gate anymore, for it had been blasted to splintered. Several monks were lying in the snow, unmoving. Their weapons of defence had been shredded to bits and their bodies bruised.

The one responsible for the carnage was in the process of dropping another monk that he had been holding. That monk's face was white, and he let out an odd gurgling sound as blood spurted out of his neck. Jack stepped hastily away, thankful that the chilling wind blew the scent away.

Manny however dashed forward, using his own robes to press on the wound, barking instructions to the other monks who were still standing. The frightened monks came forward and did their best to tend to their dying comrade, while the bald vampire glared up at the culprit.

The slender figure draped in black wasn't the slightest repentant, merely wiping his crimson-stained lips with the back of his hand. His fangs were bared prominently in his cocky grin.

"No blood is to be spilled on the mountain," Manny told him in a tone that was almost…threatening?

The vampire king merely rolled his eyes. "After they've massacred our kinsman, you still defend them? As always, I can't tell if you're illogical or amoral, my loony Lunar." His golden eyes flitted to the boy's, sending shivers down his spine. "Ah, Jack Frost! I'm glad to see you survived that terrible attack on the Necropolis. Alas,-" his mocking gaze fell back on the short, round vampire "-you've ended up in the hands of the world's most annoying immortal."

"You're not welcome here, Pitch." It might have just been Jack's imagination, but Manny's form really seemed to be surrounded an ominous whitish-blue aura.

"Come, come, now. Be reasonable, old friend," Pitch's drawled in a tauntingly cordial manner. "We two are the last leaders of vampires society as we know it. Surely, we can be civil with each other?"

Jack held his breath while the small, portly vampire bore his eyes into the gaunt, bony form. The aura that surrounded Manny then faded, and he gestured for Pitch to follow him. "Hurt a hair on anyone here and you'll regret it."

"We'll play it on your terms," agreed Pitch indulgently. "For now."

As the two older vampires moved through the snow, towards the stone houses, Jack caught sight of the monks gathered around their fallen brother, weeping openly in their blood-stained robes.

~~~0~~~

 _Blood Bread (by Sandy)_

 _1.5 cups of graham flour_

 _2 cups bread flour_

 _3 cups medium rye flour_

 _3/8 cup melted shortening_

 _2 cups of pork blood_

 _1 tablespoon of active dry yeast_

 _0.5 cup warm water (body temperature)_

 _1 cups boiling water_

 _1.5 teaspoons salt_

 _1.5 teaspoon ground allspice_

 _1 teaspoon of oil_

 _1) Soak the yeast in warm water. Allow to soften._

 _2) In separate mixing bowl, pour in graham flour and boiling water. Mix till smooth._

 _3) Pour in yeast mixture._

 _4) Mix in melted shortening, salt, allspice, blood until well-mixed._

 _5) Mix in blood until well blended_

 _6) Mix in rye flour and bread flour 1 cup at a time_

 _7) Keep blending or mixing by hand stir until dough no longer sticks sides of the bowl._

 _8) Sprinkle flour over the top of the dough. Leave to rise till doubled in size._

 _9) Punch the dough down for..._

And that's where he had to stop and think. Was it 5 minutes? 10 minutes?

Bunny pressed his knuckles against his chin as he squinted at the computer screen before him, not quite sure what to do.

The truth was that he was not exactly very adept with electronics. Pin it down with old age, or plain stubbornness, but the pen was still his medium of choice. He liked the feel of paper under his hands and the smell of ink in his cursives, so he had never really seen the advantage of the digital realm.

Except, well, they were not quite as reliable as electronic copies.

Staring at the screen was doing no favours to his memory, so Bunny pushed himself off his seat. Immediately, he winced, for the muscles under his shirt screamed at his inconsideration. Grunting, he hobbled to the other end of his room, out through the door. He glanced out in the corridor, hoping that Sandy himself would be in easy access so that he could clarify his doubts. In a house as big as theirs, however, chance deemed that he would not find the small vampire in immediate vicinity.

As luck would have it, however, Tooth was in the nearby tearoom, humming some eighties' hit. Limping forward, he entered that room. She was sorting out the porcelain ornaments from display cupboard in terms of value, before wrapping them and setting them in cardboard boxes.

"Hey," he greeted her.

She sat upright, glancing sharply towards him like a deer in the headlights. Her face suddenly turned deep crimson, before her chiding tone came on, "Bunny! You shouldn't up and about. The doctor said-"

"Yes, yes," Bunny cut in, making a scoffing sound. The young human doctor that tended to him, though sweet looking in appearance, was very much a dictator over her patients. It had been only after endless pleas that she had permitted Bunny to sit at his desk, but still forbade him from moving around. He didn't understand why Jack thought of her as nice. Dr. Fitzherbert might have a smile plastered permanently to her face, but she was anything but nice.

Not like Tooth, who by the very definition of her name was sweet, caring, with an element of long-suffering…

And also staring at him with an intensity that he didn't quite understand. She'd been doing quite a bit of that recently."What?"

The girl just blushed and looked away, folding up one of the teacups in newspaper. Scooping a yellow-green lock behind her ear, she said, "You wanted to ask me something?"

He had noticed how she dodged his question, but decided not to comment on it. "Blood Bread, by Sandy. Page 34. Do you remember how long you punch the bread?"

Tooth shot a puzzled expression at him.

"Blood Bread, by Sandy. Page 34," Bunny repeated more slowly. "Do you remember how long do you punch the bread?

As if awakening from a paralysis of thought, Tooth inquired, brow raised, "You mean knead the bread."

"I remember he wrote 'punch'."

"The proper term is 'knead'."

"Kneading would require using the heel of one's palm," he said in total seriousness. "Punching would be using one's knuckles. They are very different."

Her voice sounded incredulous. "What kind of recipe demands for punching?"

"A recipe that takes itself seriously. It's bread. Anyway,-" his ribs suddenly flared up, making him hiss and grab at it.

"Bunny!" The girl had abandoned her porcelain pieces and was by his side, eyes large with concern. "You should go lie back down."

He let out a low growl, batting off her worried hands. I'm fine. Just tell me how long the punching is - 5 minutes or 10?" Tooth had ignored his attempts to wave her away, already looping her arm under his and pulling his body back out of the tearoom. "C'mon, 5 or 10?"

"You need rest."

"But 5 or 10?"

"I'll tell you after you've rested."

"Tooth! C'mon!"

Thankfully, she permitted him to go back to his desk, provided that he 'gave a holler' before trying to move anywhere else himself. Disgruntled, Bunny stared back at the document on the screen and tried to type out everything else that he remembered.

 _10) Transfer to load pan._

 _10) Allow dough to double in size. Meanwhile, preheat oven._

 _11) Grease top of loaves before baking them for an hour, or till tops have browned._

 _12) Serve with sandwiches, or each on its own. My personal preference is toasting it and dipping in fresh blood._

Bunny grabbed his hair in frustration, letting out a growl. He couldn't actually remember if it was 'dipping in fresh blood' or 'spreading with blood'. If he knew how to search for it on the Internet, he would have done so. But he didn't, because he wasn't Tooth, who worked enough in the human world to have learned computers, or Jack, who had to use such devices in his school.

He wanted the cookbook back. It wasn't just for sentimental reasons. He really, really, couldn't remember all the recipes, which were after all the fruits of his research.

So he just stared at the screen. Eventually, he picked up both screen and monitor and smashing them into the wall. He grinned grimly as the plastic pieces were collasped to bits and the glaring screen fizzed out into a black haze.

A few seconds later, a figure appeared around the door. It was the doctor, with her long yellow-braid hanging behind her.

"What on Earth was that noise?" Her eyes darted from the battered computer to the vampire reclined back in his chair, bearing an innocent expression. Placing a hand on her hip, she reprimanded him, "You shouldn't be exerting yourself, especially upper body muscles."

"It didn't hurt," he protested as she marched up to him, squinting at his bandages.

"Doesn't mean that you didn't shift bones," Dr. Fitzherbert told him disapprovingly. She adjusted one of the knots that had become undone. "Healing for vampires is a rather precarious thing. Jack only healed as fast as he did because he's much younger than you."

Bunny looked sceptical. "That's actually a factor?" He glanced at the clock, a disturbed thought rising in him as he considered the time. "Where is that cheeky bugger anyway? It's almost past dinner time."

As if to answer him, the slamming of a car door was heard in the distance – an unfamiliar car. Well, it was heard by his super-sharp vampire ears at least, and not by the doctor's human ones. So when he frowned and got up from his seat, she was naturally furious. That fury only increased when he hobbled past her and out of the room.

His speed of moving across the corridor and down the stairs should have been surprising for his injuries, but Bunny was a very stubborn fellow, and stubborn people were very good at ignoring glaring bouts of pain, even when they shouldn't.

When he was about to turn down to the hallway, he bumped into the white-haired lad himself. Schoolbag slung over his shoulder and jumper ruffled, the teenager greeted him tiredly, "Oh, you're up and about."

Bunny ignored him briefly in favour of glancing out of the nearby window, where the sleek white body of a police car zoomed past. He spun back to Jack and said, quiet but deadly, "What. Did. You. Do."

"Nothing."

Bunny narrowed his eyes down at him.

"I'm serious – I didn't do anything! The police was just giving me a ride from the station."

"The _police_ station?"

Jack dragged out a groan. "No. I'm not in trouble. It's just something happened in school today and I-" he smacked his forehead "-I suppose Rapunzel will have to know too."

Now the older vampire frowned, because he was lost. "What? What happened?"

"You'll see it in the paper tomorrow." Jack just tapped him absentmindedly on the shoulder before strolling straight past him.

Bunny however was not easily deterred. He hopped after the boy, his ribs berating him as he did. "Whoa, whoa, kid. What exactly did you get mixed up into?"

"Nothing. I told you."

"It's not nothing if it's got the police. Is it the Arendelle girl? The one that stabbed me? The one that didn't?"

"No, it's not either of them." Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, as contemplating whether he should tell him. "If you really want to know, a corpse was found in my locker today, and it'll be all over the press because the school was flooded with cameras after the blood donation drive-"

"Wait." Bunny's eyes widened as they made a turn round the corner, heading towards the kitchen. "You went for the drive? Are we discussed specifically about how you wouldn't?" His frown deepened even more. "Did you kill that girl?"

"What? NO." The boy sounded disgusted, so he was telling truth – probably. "There was a lot of media people around there, and they got pictures of me at the crime scene. The police don't think I did it though, because hiding a body I killed in my own locker is stupid. But they want me to stay around for questioning, and maybe to testify in court."

The older vampire's brows furrowed together. "But we're planning to move out this Sunday. Did you tell them?"

"How could I? They'd ask why." He pushed open the kitchen door, holding it open for his injured companion. "Leaving all of a sudden looks very suspicious."

Bunny sighed, but he couldn't disagree. "Did you recognise the body?"

Jack sighed, and nodded.

"Who?"

Before he could answer, they were interrupted by the sound of pattering feet and one slender, cross-looking Dr. Fitzherbert had entered the scene. Her arms were akimbo as she told her errant patient off, "Seriously, you shouldn't be running around like that, Mr. Bunnymund. You're only going to make your recovery much slower than it – oh, hello there, Jack." Some of her anger dissipated when she saw the boy and his downtrodden manner. "Why, whatever's the matter?"

The boy hesitated. It was obvious that he was debating with himself on how to tell speak to her.

Eventually, Bunny got fed up with waiting and said, "Some poor girl was murdered at his school. The body ended up in his locker too."

The blonde woman let out a loud gasp, covering her mouth. "That's horrible. Jack, is it anyone you knew?"

Jack slid himself into a seat, grabbing one of the cookies sitting on the table – who baked it, Bunny didn't know. It wasn't from the cookbook. He took a bite and swallowed. Finally, he said, without looking at the doctor, "It's Merida."

That name meant nothing to Bunny, but it must have a struck a cord with the blonde doctor, for her bright green eyes went as large as dinner plates and she staggered away, her back hitting against the kitchen door. Her body just stiffened up and her arms were trembling as she grabbed the door knob for support. All that came out from her mouth was, "Oh."

He was a gruff old grumbler, but he was still decent at his core. So Bunny took Dr. Fitzherbert by the arm and helped her to sit down. She allowed him to lead her, for her face was still fixed to the front, pale and frozen in shock.

"You alright?" Jack asked, probably regretting saying anything to her.

"I'm-I'm-" the words from her were fragments, almost intelligible "-she-how did she-?"

The boy could only shrug.

"Excuse me." Dr. Fitzherbert abruptly rose to her feet. She marched her way out of the kitchen. "I think I need some fresh air."

"Of course," Bunny said, while Jack offered, "I'll go with you."

"No, no." She shook her head, letting out a half-hearted laugh. "Please don't trouble yourselves. I'll be fine." She disappeared down the corner with hands wrapped around her elbows, long golden braid flapping behind.

All that filled the kitchen afterwards was Jack's munching on the cookies. Bunny had continued to stare at the doorway long after the doctor's form had vanished from view.

Finally, he said to the boy, "You should go check on her."

"I don't know. She did seem like she wants to be alone."

"Yeah, but it's getting dark. A young woman shouldn't be out after dark in these parts."

"She's not actually a young woman, you know. She got at least three digits in her age."

"But she's not a vampire, nor does she have our abilities," Bunny pointed out. "Go and check on her or I'll throw you after her. I taught you to be a gentleman, not a lazy oaf."

"I'm not an oaf and you didn't teach me anything, fuzzball." Nonetheless, Jack did rise from his seat and headed off in the direction that the doctor had gone to.

When he had disappeared from view, Bunny muttered, "Insolent brat."

"I heard that," Jack's voice wafted down the corridor.

~~~0~~~

"I'm so sorry for the whole blood part. I forgot that blood is a delicacy that most people dislike."

"It's quite alright, my dear." He waved off her apologies as he continued to politely consume the rest of his soup. Earlier, when she had served the humble meal to her guest of an unknown name, she had added in her stir-fried blood pieces. These had proven to be quite repulsive to him, as it would with most people, and she cursed herself for not remembering that. He was not offended though, and scooped out the blood portions so that she might add it to her own bowl. "Blood is a delicacy that I do enjoy, but only of the finer quality. Freezing changes the taste."

"Oh." Elsa turned crimson, cursing her own ignorance about cuisine, and cooking in general. Hoping to that he'll forget her blunder, she quickly switched the topic. "Do you like East Asian cuisine?"

"Well." The eccentric stranger pressed the back of forefinger against his underlip as he thought. "It's generally flavourful, I suppose, but I find much prefer South Asian. I've spent quite a number of years around the Indus region, you see."

"Wow." This was the first bit of personal information that she had managed to extract from him thus far – which surprising, since they've spoken quite a bit. The girl poked around at the ramen noodles, before shoving one of the blood piece in her mouth and swallowing. "You worked there?"

"Yes. I was attempting to establish a cooperation of sorts there."

So he was a businessman? It would make sense, given his refined manners and his air of authority. Yet, she couldn't imagine a figure so out-of-world sitting behind a desk and answering a phone. "Did you succeed?"

"Unfortunately, no." He grimaced, drawing his jaw up tight. "My foes had been swift to squash my enterprise. Since then, I've been drifting here and there, seeing if I might gain a foothold somewhere."

"I see."

"What of you, my dear? You are currently in school, are you not?"

Elsa lowered some noodles into her spoon with chopsticks and immersed it into the soup. "Well, yes." She forced herself to swallow it down.

"I see." From the first time, she had noticed how mysterious his eyes were. They were usually dark black, but from time to time they would flicker to another shade – grey, brown, even gold. Now, they were shifting a shade that seemed yellowish-grey, before melding back into a full grey. "You enjoy it?"

The blonde girl shrugged, piling up more noodles in her spoon, interspersed with more of the blood bits. "Not really. It's just for college, and stuff."

"Ah, so that is the goal of your life then – college?"

She couldn't help smiling slightly at his odd phrasing. "It's more a short-term goal. I guess the real goal is getting a job."

"A job? Is that all you've planned in your life?"

The answer 'yes' was on her lips, but just briefly, she got a vision. It was blurred beyond belief, but she could see a house in the idyllic suburbs, with children playing in the gardens. She herself was standing at the edge of the house, still garbed in her formal working attire, gazing affectionately at the scene before her. Someone came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, placing a kiss on her neck and murmuring sweet nothings -

She shook her head. She hadn't honestly had dallied with such dreams since she entered high school, after she had seen her parents mutilated before her very eyes. In that very moment, she had grown up. She had no longer believed in idyllic suburbs or idyllic families anymore than she believed in magic. Her ambitions had turned to bettering their dark, horrid world in whatever little way she could – that was the whole goal behind the whole 'Social Awareness Student Society', as a student-level experiment of a non-profit that she hoped to be working in one day. Perhaps the cause she would fight for would be road safety. Or orphans. Or survivors with severe PTSD.

Yet when the daydream played in her head this time, she was pretty sure that the one who had his arms around her waist had snowy-white hair.

"I guess I would like to live a life of purpose," Elsa answered at last, clearing up the rest of the blood pieces in her soup and placing it in her spoon. The noodles were too boring anyway to eat anyway. "To know that I've contributed something in my short time here on Earth."

"A worthy goal," praised her guest. "After all, one doesn't know when out last day would be. In the face of such, it would be folly not to make it count.

They went on to discuss more matters, of family, of prudence and justice. Elsa tried not to think about the hypothetical suburban house and the hypothetical family she probably couldn't afford with her likely future NGO career.

Eventually, it was amicably agreed between the two of them that her meal was perhaps not that tasty and there wasn't much of a point in finishing it. The stranger wouldn't allow her to be embarrassed by her lack of cooking skills though, saying that it was a gracious gift that she prepared such for him regardless.

The young hostess carried the two bowls back to the kitchen, regretfully pouring the tasteless soup into the sink and dumping the bland noodles into the bin. Fearing that her guest might still be hungry, she went to the fridge and looked for anything else available for consumption. "Would you like some chocolate cake?"

"No thank you, my dear, but that is a considerate offer," came the reply from the dining room. Elsa bit her lip as she gazed at the cake tin, before deciding that she wasn't really craving for it and shut the fridge door. She instead decided to make some tea for the both of them, since that was something that she knew how to prepare correctly.

When she carried the cups out, she found her guest pacing the dining room, only stopping when he noticed her return. After she set the two cups down on the table, he did not seat himself, merely glancing down at her with an unreadable expression.

Sensing something amiss, the blonde girl inquired, "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, not at all." He shook his head, but he wasn't being honest. Somehow, Elsa just knew that.

"I'm really sorry about dinner." If he wasn't going to speak up about it, then she would. "I know that it wasn't very good, so if you didn't like it-"

"To be frank, my dear Elsa, I never came in here for the dinner. Or the tea."

Her brows lifted in surprise and she cocked her head towards him, puzzled.

The tall man with the dark garb gestured towards the chair near her. "Will you not take a seat?"

She frowned, but did as he requested.

"I apologise if I sound very forward, but I cannot suppress the truth any longer." The stranger drew himself upright before her, readjusting his coat the way he often did. "I have admired you greatly since our first encounter, and with every subsequent one, that admiration has only increased."

Oh, that's ni - no, _wait_. She sat up straight in alarm. _WHAT_?

"You have faced great adversity from such a young age, and have managed to overcome it with determination and courage. You have the bearing of a queen though not birth of royalty and a maturity far beyond your years. No poetry I could weave could ever describe the exquisite beauty that you are." His tone was velvety and warm. It was like music, soothing and sweet, yet with a dark, haunting undertone. "I've sought so long for one who worthy to be at my side, and I have seen in you the culmination of every trait that I'd have ever desired in a consort. You are the epitome of perfection itself."

 _Consort_? What was she now – _Cinderella_? _What on Earth was going on?_ Elsa blinked, but the peculiar scene happening before her eyes did not disappear.

"Thus, I ask –nay, _beg_ \- most humbly, that you might -" he abruptly lowered himself down onto a knee – why was he kneeling? Why? – and took both her hands in his "-do me the honour of being my bride."

She stared at him, dumbstruck.

This had to be a dream. A very weird dream that she was going to wake up from. Either that, or it would start raining meatballs and signal the end of the world.

A minute later, she did not wake up, the sky did not rain meatballs and the world did not end. And a complete stranger was still on his knee, waiting for her reply to his unexpected proposal.

A proposal.

An actual marriage proposal.

This had to be a joke. It had to be.

Yet, she knew this pale, eccentric man before her was not the type to joke. She didn't know how she knew – she just did. He was absolutely serious.

She had to resist the urge to throw up.

"You do not answer – why?"

"Look." Elsa withdrew her hands from his as quickly as she could, hastily pushing herself to her feet and stepping back. "I don't know what impression I gave you, but-" he rose to his feet, making as if to approach her, only to halted by her lifted palms "-I'm definitely, definitely not interested in marriage at this point of my life. I mean, I'm, well, _eighteen_!"

"It's not a matter of interest or age," the peculiar stranger – or more accurately, the peculiar and stranger suitor, of all things – said in a puzzled matter. "It's a matter of destiny. Clearly, you feel drawn to myself as much as I to-"

"Okay, okay, stop right there," the girl interrupted, aghast how this bizarre situation was spiralling out of control. Rubbing her gloved fingers against her temple, she scrambled for how best to phrase herself without sounding too cruel. "Look, I'm really, really grateful for the times that you helped me, like on Monday night in the rain and today with the groceries. And I've enjoyed talking to you – really, I have. But-" Elsa raised her arms in frustration "-I don't even know your name!"

There was a gold fleck glinting off the corner of his pupil, and his tone was deadly still. "Are you sure about that?"

"I-I-" Elsa gawked at him, jaw hanging open. In the back of her head, two words rose to mind, but she shoved it away, considering them irrelevant to her present situation. "Look, this is all very weird. You're at least-" she winced "-ten years, or more, older than me. We don't know anything about each other and frankly, dropping this bomb on me without warning is highly inconsiderate and not exactly normal social behaviour. So, if you don't mind-" she let out a deep exhale, dropping back in the dining room seat while carding a hand through her hair "-would you please go and let's pretend this never happened?"

Very briefly, she felt a wave of something radiate off him – surprise, a bit of hurt. But it was nothing compared to the subsequent burst of heat – rage. Yet, when Elsa glanced up at her strange guest, his angular face bore no expression. He merely nodded at her, before spinning on his heel and heading out of the dining room, through the living room and out of the hall. The girl let out a huge sigh of relief when she heard the door close behind him.

Elsa shut her eyes, hands hooking to the back of her neck as she stared heavenward, pleading why, or why that did weird things like this have to happen to her.

Now that her guest had departed, she could have easily believed that all that had occurred was merely a dream. The two cups of steaming tea before her however dispelled any such thoughts. Those, and the glittering object next to one cup that didn't belong to her.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Elsa reached for the object and found it to be a ring. It was delicate thing, made from woven golden strands, allowing it to resemble the weaving of cords. Encrusted at its centre was a finely-cut sapphire, glowing a shade that matched her eyes.

She trembled as she enclosed the little ornament in her palm, trying to tell herself that the significance was merely in her imagination. Even if the stranger wasn't completely out of his mind – which he was, by the way – and fully intended to propose to her, it'd be impossible for him to have found such a fine piece of jewellery so soon after meeting her, and certainly not one that matched her eyes. How many days has it been – three? Four?

 _"Not days_ ," a voice in her head whispered to her.

Pushing herself off from her seat, she hurried to the door. It wasn't too late yet – he'd be still climbing the stirrups to get onto his steed. Bursting out of the house, she called, "Wait! You forgot your-"

The road was empty. The fence where he had tied his horse had no sign of being tempered with. He must have left quite quickly.

"Elsa?"

She jumped, shrieking, only to stop when she realised it was just Anna walking down the driveway. The girl was carrying two carrier bags, looking extremely exhausted, but still flashed a welcoming smile.

That smile however faded when she saw how pale her sister's face was. "What's wrong?"

The blonde girl glanced around them, before asking slowly, "When you came up the drive way, did you see someone leaving? Like a man on horse, perhaps?"

"No, I didn't see anyone on anything." Anna eyed her with concern. "You feeling okay?"

The fatigue that she had felt earlier in the day had started to return to her and Elsa felt a huge desire to crawl in bed. From now on, she wasn't going to talk to strangers – any strangers – even if they had rescued her from the rain. This whole experience was too mortifying for words, not to mention majorly creepy. "Not really, I guess."

"Alright, let's get back inside." Gently, the younger ushered the older back towards the house. "Anyway, I've got some exciting news to share with you. Well, I suppose-" she bit her lip thoughtfully "-it's exciting or terrible depending on how you look at it."

Elsa wasn't really listening, no matter how bright and energetic her sister was. She was twirling the gold ring in her gloved palm, mulling over the two words that had floated to her mind when he had asked if she really didn't know his name.

 _Pitch Black._

That wasn't a name. It sounded more like an adjective. Like a colour. Just a way of describing a colour. She was just making things up, as usual.

But then it struck her that he had called her by name, though she had never told him what it was.

~~~0~~~

He had lived many different lives before – thief, prince, exile, refugee, mercenary, soldier, teacher, and so forth. He had too gone by many names, some for the sake of ego, and others for the sake of safety.

Not his safety though. After so many years, he had ceased to live for himself – if his accursed existence was counted as living.

 _"Rider, you got that?"_

"Yep." He wrote everything down on his notepad before undoing his seatbelt. "Got any info from the coroner?"

 _"Not yet. So far, they determined that she wasn't killed by the beheading."_

"Oh?" He climbed out of the car, phone pressed against his shoulder.

 _"That only came after. Doesn't look like a knife job though. They suggest a longer blade? I dunno."_

"Well, if you want me to keep helping in the case, keep me informed." He ascended the steps to the porch, removed his keys and slotted them in the lock.

 _"Sure thing, Mr. Rider. When do you think you can come to Burgess? Sheriff wants to your opinion about the Dursley and Arendelle cases respectively. He's still convinced they're by the same person."_

"I rather doubt it." He stabbed the switch with his elbow while closing the door. As the yellow lights splashed themselves on the painted murals of the hall, he turned the lock and left the key ring on the wall hook. "Dursley's was outright brutality – like an animal attack. But the Arendelle and Dunbroch? Both a tad too theatrical."

There was a pause. _"I don't get it, sir."_

"Those two attacks were a little too elegant, arranged as if the killer meant for the victims to be found." He scratched the little goatee at the end of his chin. "The only question is why one's alive and the other not."

 _"Well, you'll have to convince him yourself, Mr. Rider. The Sheriff is really set on the idea that they are all by the same fellow."_

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," he assured his comrade as he headed passed the living room and headed to the kitchen. "Thanks Conli. Have a goodnight."

 _"No problem, Mr. Rider. Goodnight."_

The call was ended and thus working hours were over – until they called him again, of course. Flynn Rider, or as we better know him as, Eugene Fitzherbert tugged at his tie until it came undone in his hand. Throwing it over his shoulder, he headed to the fridge-room. There, amongst all the bags of human blood, he found a box of the expired ones. These ones were no longer suitable for transplant, but good enough for consumption. He took one of the bags and headed back to the kitchen.

Their kitchen had more equipment than it had food, because Rapunzel loved experimenting with new machines, gadgets and techniques. One thing she loved about the 21st Century was the Internet. Learning to cook had never been easier and she delighted in how widely her array of cooking skills had grown.

Unfortunately, she wasn't at home right now. She was still in Burgess at the Guardians house. He didn't like the arrangement, but she insisted it was the most efficient way of doing things and he didn't like to refuse her. That meant that he would be consuming his dinner on his own, however.

He cut open the blood bag and poured its content in to a bowl. He then covered the bowl with a towel and put it in the microwave, setting it for 2 minutes. The thing was pretty much just a block of ice, after all.

As he waited, he checked his phone for messages. There were a couple from his wife, asking him how the case was going and telling him to feed himself properly. That was about five hours ago and Eugene wondered if she had discovered the developments of the case yet. Burgess was a much smaller town compared to Corona and word there spread much quicker.

Call it obsessive, unhealthy even, but her happiness was all that he really wanted. Eugene knew that she loved interacting with people, hearing their stories and fears and dreams. She had such a soft heart for them that he often felt ashamed of himself. Since childhood, self-interest had always been his driving motivator. He was a survivor – scum of the Earth, but he lived. But not Rapunzel – no, she was driven by her passion, her love, her curiosity, her enthusiasm for all that was beautiful, apparent or obscured. It was her mission, as an artist, to uncover the brightest spot in the world that all might rejoice in it. How did scoundrel like himself end up with a saint like her, he'd never know.

The timer on the microwave went off and he removed the bowl. At once, Eugene was hit by the scent of sweet iron, so raw and so red. His rumbling tummy gurgled appreciative as he drank a mouthful straight off the rim, before heading upstairs with his meal of the day.

When they had moved here, it had been about twenty years since the first time she had gotten her M.D.. But a little tweaking of her old certificates and forging some convincing documents gave them a house of their own, in addition to a job that she like. He didn't actually need to work, since she was earning more enough to cover their expenses, but he did because it kept him busy, and more importantly, it kept her happy. He didn't mind awfully, because he loved a good mystery and Corona had plenty to keep him occupied.

But Burgess? Burgess he had mixed feelings about.

Rapunzel had a lot of 'special' patients from there. It had started because she had treated one of them by chance, then somehow word got out and since then, there's a gradual growth in the number of patients on her secret registry. She usually didn't charge, because, well, he was technically one of them and so was she, so why charge kinsmen?

Gah, _kinsmen_. He hated thinking himself as one of them. He hated even more thinking of her as one of them. When he took on cases from that side of town, it was just for entertainment, occasionally for justice, but never, never because he felt an affinity for the monsters that dwelled there.

Eugene headed to the study room; an airy, open working space with a huge window that looked over to the vast forestry that surrounded their isolated bungalow. Rapunzel's desk, complete with computers, files and textbooks, was on the far right of that window while his was on the far left. He flicked on the lights for his half of the room, dropping the bowl of blood on his neatly aligned table as he did. He removed his notebook from his pocket, flipping it open.

His relationship was the police force of the was much like one's relationship with the IRS - frustrating, but necessary, if one was going to stay on the right side of the law. They had issues, they asked him for help, he helped, and they paid him. That happened quite a lot, because there were apparently lot of weird things that happened across the township that the force was in charge of. Murder was still a bit on the rare side – till recently.

As he flipped through the notebook and slurped on his bloody meal, his eyes fell onto the other end of study room, still masked in darkness. Rapunzel's laptop lay closed next to a pile of neatly-stacked journals. The stationary had been arranged back into their respective divisions in the pencil holder and the centre of the desk was cleared from all unnecessary products. The trash had been cleared and the tissue box refilled. It was very neat. Very ordered.

Very wrong.

He picked up his phone, tapping on the first name that appeared on his contacts. He pressed the phone to his ear and waited, still staring at the desk across his own in disbelief.

" _Hello_?" Rapunzel sounded tired. " _Eugene?"_

"Hey, Sweetheart," he tried to make his tone cheerful. "Just wanted to check – have you been home recently?"

 _"Home? Err, no. I haven't returned to Corona since arriving at the Guardian's place."_

"Okay," Eugene kept his tone calm as he carefully folded his note book back up. "Not even to get your meds?"

" _Meds? What meds? I got all the meds I need here."_

"I mean for yourself."

 _"Oh, those meds. Hmm..."_

He narrowed his eyes. "Rapunzel?"

Before he could get a reply, however, he caught a brief flash of light reflecting off the window. He spun around -

\- just in time to catch sight of a blade descending over his head.

Twisting himself off the chair, he watched as the sword struck his desk instead, splitting it apart. Splinters flew into his face and the bowl of blood overturned itself over his notebook.

Eugene sighed.

The wielder of weapon, draped in a dark cloak, whipped about and slashed the blade at him. The vampire rolled swiftly away, hopping to his feet and lashing forward. With his superior speed, he managed to grab the assailant's arm. One swift jerk later, the sword was knocked from his hand. One elbow snap later, and the masked fellow was screaming in agony.

Not missing a beat, the vampire's other hand went for his assailant's neck, only to draw it back sharply afterwards. Eugene could feel a tingling sensation running down his arm, spread from the area of contact. His foe was wearing silver armour. Just _peachy._

Hateful green eyes gleamed briefly over the mask, before the attacker's good hand whipped out a dagger. In his shock, Eugene barely registered the moment where the blade slashed him from temple to lip. He staggered back whilst swearing, pressing on the wound that was burning his face. Half his vision had gone red.

The assailant adjusted his grip on his wooden dagger before thrusting at him again, but one eye was enough to warn the vampire. Eugene easily dodged this strike before swiping a kick at his foe's legs. The assailant couldn't react quickly enough and trip over, making the vampire grin despite his smarting countenance.

"Alright, let's not be stupid." He removed his gun, the same that he had strapped on his person all times. He pointed the barrel down at his fallen assailant, who was now gasping for breath and cradling his dislocated arm. "You don't want to die, and I don't want to kill you. So tell me-"

And then suddenly, his assailant's arm snapped back with a loud 'pop' place. He twisted it and rolled it back, and just like that, the dislocated arm was as good as new.

Eugene's mouth fell open. When his good eye met those of the intruder's, he could see the mockery in them.Without hesitation, he fired the gun between those eyes. He heard the assailant yelp a foreign curse, clutching his face as blood splattered down it, when he should in fact not be saying anything and just be dead.

The vampire's mind was briefly distracted by the aroma of blood, but he shook it off when he realised, that if he found the blood fragrant, his opponent couldn't be a vampire, and yet…he had survived a shot at point blank. Stunned, he could only murmur, "What are you?"

"Hah," his foe spat out whilst removing his hand from his face. The mask had dropped down to reveal a face unmarred, a face that could be described only as devilishly handsome (though in no way comparable to his own trademark smoulder) or devilishly terrifying. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Incredulous, Eugene fired again, but this time, the assailant dodged. The masked fellow himself flung out a series of wooden darts, one of which struck his target in the shin.

Gritting his teeth together while tearing the projectile out, Eugene crushed the gun in his hand. He threw the useless item away as his own eyes darkened. He rolled his shoulders back as his muscles tensed up, his posture hunching forward while his fingers curled on themselves. The intellectual was stored away and the primitive took over. It took a monster to fight a monster, after all.

A feral shriek escaped his lips as Eugene launched himself towards his quarry, thoughts of mercy and fair-play locked in the back of his mind. His undefeated foe managed to stab him in the arm with another wooden weapon, but he just tore the offending object off with his teeth and spat it away. His fingers clawed forward, hooking themselves on a latch on his foe's armour. He could feel the silver burning his skin, but madness dulled the pain as he ripped it off the cloaked man, throwing it aside. His foe cursed in frustration, swinging his sword at him, but the vampire was far swifter, ducking the blow before twisting his arm back. The sword clattered on to the ground and without even a thought, the vampire sunk his fangs into the bare hand.

The assassin yelled as he felt his bones being crushed under iron jaws, scarlets waters of his flesh began to rain onto the floorboards like a dam set free. Eugene swallowed the hot blood and bit more deeply, ignoring the furious wriggling of his opponent. His teeth pressed through sinew, muscle, ligament until ….

"ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!

-the entire hand, in tact palm and five digits, was torn off its wrist the way one would tear a piece of tissue.

Screaming, the assassin sunk himself to his knees, clutching his shortened appendage, which had turning into a pulsing fountain of red. The vampire spat out the the dismembered chunk of meat and bones, sucked drain from all its liquid. A bloody, toothy grin spread across his face at the sight of this man's suffering.

Not waiting for a moment of pause, Eugene wrapped a hand around the intruder's neck, hauling him off the ground.

The assassin struggled and kicked, but quite sated from his meal and feeling charged with vicious energy, the vampire merely cackled at the antics. "You poor, cocky mortal," he mocked, shaking his head as he tightened his grip. His quarry made a gagging sound, which was like music to his ears. "Who do you think you are, that you can hope to defeat _monsters_ like _me_?

The choking fellow gave no answer, only raising one of his only remaining hands. Eugene recognised too late that hand held a detonator.

The gloved thumb stabbed the trigger.

 _BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!_

When Eugene opened his eyes once again, he was lying flat on the ground. The entire study room around him was surrounded in flames, not that they could hurt him. In the corner of his good eye, he could see the dark figure stealing across to Rapunzel's desk, snatching up the laptop with his remaining hand. The assassin gazed briefly his way, before dashing toward the window, crashing through the glass and disappearing in the night.

Eugene staggered to his feet, snarling and biting. His feral nature told him to chase the attacker, to tear out his carotids and drain him dry for the insolence! But the human nature told him to stop, and think.

His eyes returned to their lighter chocolate shade as he watched the fire consuming everything around him. It struck him that while he might be immune to the flames, there were things in this house that were not.

With his leg injured, Eugene had to limp forward, but even a vampire's limp was still pretty fast. He scampered through the fiery corridor, heading first for the medical cupboard. It was overturned, but by some miracle, most of the drugs inside were largely in tact. He was only looking for one in a particular, however, and that was a small box of vials, of which the vials all contained a green liquid. Carrying the box carefully, he then headed down to the bedroom, ignoring how his lower pant leg had caught fire.

The bedroom was completely wrecked, with raging flames eating away the pillars, the bed and half the carpeting. The curtains had turned into sheets of fire, and he would have coughed if he needed to breathe. But he was far too focused on his task to remember old human habits.

He dashed – as much as he could – to the wardrobe, ripping off the door that was already charred black. The clothes inside were surprisingly untouched, but he didn't care about them, just digging them out and tossing them out on the floor. He dug all the way to the back till his fingers traced the familiar angles of another box. He cautiously yanked it out, not wanting to drop the vials, and his chest was filled with relief to see the words ' _Eloise_ ' scratched on the surface of the cardboard.

He placed the box of vials in the cardboard box, then wrapped the box in some of the remaining clothes. Cradling the bundle to his chest, he then noted dryly that most of his clothes were on fire. If he didn't want his treasure to set aflame, he had better make his departure hasty.

It was just threes seconds after he had walked out of the flaming front door, clothes on his back burning and the bundle in his arms not, when another explosion burst through the bungalow. He watched on as the rooftop collapsed in on itself, glass flying everywhere and smoke puffing like a steam engine. In the distance, it must have looked like a volcano.

Eugene spun around and walked away. If the flames were spotted later on and the cops informed, he couldn't be seen near the place. The how of his survival would be called into question, especially since the blood on his skin had started crusting up.

By the time he found a creek in the woods, his clothes were pretty much just shreds. Still, he doused off the remain sparks and washed himself from blood, then checked on the two goods that he had rescued. He reached for the phone in his pocket, only to remember that he had left it back in the house during his fight with the intruder. Eugene sighed, throwing on some of the clothes that he had used to wrap on the boxes.

With the state of his leg, it was gonna be a long trek to Burgess.

~~~0~~~

 _Blood Kimbap (by Bunny)_

 _3 Julienned Carrots (You can never have too many)"_

 _1 Yellow pickled Radish_

 _1 Cup of Chopped Fresh Spinach_

 _1 Cup of Solid Pork Blood Strips_

 _2 Cups of Cooked Short-grain Rice_

 _1 Tablespoons of Soy Sauce_

 _4 Teaspoon of Sesame Oil_

 _1.5 Teaspoons of Sugar_

 _1.5 Teaspoons of Salt_

 _1 Sesame Oil_

 _10 Sheets of Roasted Seaweed sheets_

 _Black Pepper to taste_

 _1)Mix 0.5 teaspoons of sugar and 2 tablespoon of sesame oil. Pour over cooked rice. Mix evenly._

 _2)Blanch Spinach in hot water. Remove after one minute, squeeze out water and chop._

 _3)Stir-fry carrots in oil and remove from heat._

 _4)Marinate blood strips in soy sauce, black pepper, remaining sugar and remaining sesame oil for 10 minutes._

 _5)Cut the picked radish into thin long strips._

 _6) Stir-fry blood strips and remove from heat._

 _7) Lay a sheet of seaweed sheet on bamboo mat. Spread rice onto it, with only three fingers width not covered._

 _8)With wet hands, assemble blood pieces, carrot, pickled radish and spinach in the centre of the rice._

 _9)Use both hand to roll over the filling. Press tightly as you roll. Careful not to roll mat into kimbap._

 _10)Squeeze the roll in mat, to ensure it keeps shape. Remove from mat._

 _11) Repeat for as many kimbaps as desired._

 _12) Slice Serve._

~~~0~~~

The conference between Pitch and Manny spanned a full five days. By then, the other vampires had heard of spiel and had taken to wandering near the house where the two were, just not near enough to eavesdrop. It was clear that the dialogue was to be a confidential one that none were to be privy too. Jack had managed to suppress his curiosity for the first four days, but by the fifth, he couldn't take it anymore.

In the night, when most of the mortal monks were asleep and the other vampires were going about their own business, the boy climbed to the roof of the stone house in question. The walls had been built thick enough to resist sound leakage, but there was an open window the top floor. With a nimbleness that only a body as lithe as his own possessed, he slipped through the small hole, landing inside as softly as he could. Vampire ears were very keen, after all, and he had no plans of being caught.

The exterior of the building was made of stone, but the floors were made of wood, so all he needed to do really was to press his ear against the ground to be able to listen in on them.

"-honestly think this harebrained experiment is going to earn us favour from mankind, then you are a greater fool than I ever thought." Pitch's scorn was unmistakable.

"It's not to earn favour from mankind – it's a chance to make genuine peace with them, regardless of whether they know of our existence," Manny was arguing. "Amongst those who do know, it will be proof to them vampires mean humans no harm. There need not be antagonism between-"

"And therein lies my problem with your arguments." He could almost hear the vampire king shaking his head. "Why should we try to be what we're not?"

"Because mankind, which I point out to you, is part of our origin. They are our kinsman, our brothers. They deserve-"

"They deserve to be our nourishment, and nothing more. They are not our kin in any way, not in skill, not in intellect, not in judgment." He could hear Pitch's fangs grating against each other. "We might have the same origin, but the fact remains that we have transcended them. They are under us, and deserve to be treated us such. Do you think that those hunters that invaded the Necropolis and murdered hundreds of our kind harboured the notion of us being their kin?"

Manny was undaunted. "That's because none of us have tried extending the olive branch to them before. All we do is kill or enslave their people. With this experiment, we could turn the-"

"And how long would it take? Decades? Centuries?" Pitch barked a laugh. "And by then, these small pockets of vampire hunters would become more organised and better equipped. We should wipe them out NOW – and those that they hold dear." The sadistic joy in voice was sickeningly palatable. "Let fear strike them in their hearts, so that they never dare resist us once again."

"This is wrong."

"What is more wrong – defending a people who would have cast you out and slaughtered you, or subduing them before they can do so?"

"Destruction only breed more destruction," Manny protested. "You think that massacring humans would solve the problem – it will only lead to be stronger resistance."

"And you think that assimilating with them would solve anything?" His tone was derisive. "My old friend, you and I have seen empires rise and fall. You know the weakness of mankind – its tendency towards disorder, corruption and vice. We could fix it all, you know." His manner suddenly became soft, quiet, pleading. "We have the power, the prowess, the intellect and the means to bring it about. There is nothing that holds us back except the division that we have driven between ourselves. United, however, mankind would not stand a chance."

"And there lies my problem with your arguments." Jack could hear the mats being shifted as Manny got to his feet. "I want mankind to have a chance."

Knowing that the discussion was soon over and not wanting to be caught, the boy tiptoed back to the window and leap out, grabbing the gutter and swooping back up over the roof. He managed to hide just in time as Pitch emerged from the stone house, seething in rage.

"Your gifts are a waste, old friend," he spat at the small balding man. "Others with your abilities and status would have sought to make the world a better place. But you-" he sneered "-you prefer to hide behind your scrolls and studies, as if those could fix this wretched world."

"If you had spent a little more time doing such, then maybe you would be able to learn from the mistakes from history," Manny retorted, unfazed. "You would know that you will only cause death."

"Death is already happening," snarled Pitch, folding his black robes haughtily over his chest. "And it's because of fools like you and my daughter that such hunters had become so powerful."

By then, the exchange was heard by the sleeping residents of Lamadary. Window turned yellow in the night as lamps were lit. Heads were poked out from the doors and ears perked up to listen.

"Your daughter's folly was not in her lack of active violence," Manny intoned gravely. "It was in her lack of active reconciliation."

Pitch just sniffed scornful. His gaze rested briefly on the white-haired boy on the roof, before saying to the bald fellow, "We shall see, old friend. We shall see."

His body was then twisted into a sheet of black, from which a flock of bats appeared. The monks darted hastily out of the way as the griping, clawing creatures soared up in the air, into the wind, screeching and crying angrily in the night sky.

A few days later, scouts returned to the Lamadary reporting that a troop of soldiers had been spotted marching up to the mountain. They were well-clothed and well-fed, bearing wooden stakes in their hands.

"We have to leave," North told Manny. All the six vampires had gathered to discuss the matter, for it was clear what those soldiers were looking for. "If we're gone, they might spare the Lamadary."

The bald man however shook his head. "They won't. They detest us enough to wipe out any who might have helped us, even if there's no evidence of such."

The Lamadary had to be evacuated. The monks themselves had not many possessions, for they weren't permitted such, so it made packing fairly easy. The scrolls from their great library however had to be preserved, so they were split amongst the monks, in hope that they might be able to build a new library elsewhere.

A few days after all residents of the Lamadary had departed and were on their way down the mountain, they saw a great fire in the distance. Large billows of smoke floated above it, ominous and reeking destruction

"Bet you it was Pitch who told them," Bunny's voice had suddenly popped up from behind him.

Jack jumped, spinning towards the other vampire. "What?"

"Pitch Black." Bunny took a bite out of carrot that he had soaked and dried with blood. "Bet he told the hunters where to find us."

"But-" Jack was flabbergasted with such a notion "-why?"

"He wants vampires united. So if there's dissenssion, he'll remove it by whatever means possible. That, and-" the older vampire let out a low, dry chuckle "-he's a quite petty fellow. He hates it when he doesn't get his way."

~~~0~~~

 **The flashback portion with Manny (continuing from Chapter 9) is largely inspired by the Guardians of Childhood books, along with the Lamadary. The books seemed to suggest that the Lunar Lamadary is located in the Himalayas, possibly on top of Everest. Here, Himalayas is called 'Himmaleh', which was how its name was translated back in the Victorian Era.**

 **Bunny's kind of like the book master, in a way. In the Guardians of Childhood books, they kind of suggest that he's kind of the smart, intelligent one who does research and whatnot, compared to North of the books (who's brash and impulsive) and Toothiana of the books (who just a unflappable badass).**

 **So, Elsa's odd subplot with Pitch is over…or has it just begun?**

 **I'd like to think I gave Rapunzel and Eugene such an interesting backstory that they probably deserve a story series of their own…that I probably won't write because I'm really lazy.**

 **Guest Mailbox:**

 **TQ: Ah, yes. I apologise that Elsa's perspective has induced thoughts of suicide in you. That had never been my intention. My bad. Hopefully they will improve.**

 **Byee…….I need sleep…….**


	14. Chapter 14

It was eleven past forty at night and he had long closed up for work. The only reason he was still in the warehouse was because he had started watching a serial drama. It was about some heir to a major cosmetics company falling in love with a sassy salesgirl – not exactly intellectually stimulating, but brainlessly funny enough to be entertaining.

He was on episode thirty-four, streaming it on his com, when he heard the backdoor crashing open. He jumped, before reaching for the gun that he kept under strapped the table.

The intruder was apparently familiar with the place, because he had come racing down the corridor, huffing and puffing. Just as Hiro was about to undo the safety, he realised who the bloodied individual with tattered armour was. "Mr. Westergaard! What are you-"

"I need a saw, made of silver if you can manage it," the man cut in briefly. His lips were drawn into a grimace, and one of his hands was wrapped in a crimson-soaked cloth. "Also – get me a Mountain Ash torch – a lit one."

Hiro gawked at him.

"Hurry!"

Only then the boy take off, dashing to the storage rooms to find the items that he had been told of. A mountain ash stick was easy to locate, but he didn't have a saw made of silver. So he returned to the lab with a silver scimitar instead. Hans was already seated at one table, cradling that his blood-soaked arm whilst cursing and swearing. When he saw the scimitar, he snatched it from Hiro's hand without so much of a thank-you, before dropping the bloodied cloth. It was only then that the boy could see the gnarled hand, and he gasped.

Most of it was gone, like it had been ripped off via jaws of a shark. There was a part of that seemed to growing back, however. Hiro couldn't help but watch in fascination as bits of flesh and muscles trying to wrap themselves around each other, and some ligaments slowly spouting out of nowhere. He had known that his client possessed extraordinary healing abilities, but he had never witnessed it firsthand– no pun intended.

"Stand back," the hunter ordered him, which he did. Hans then raised the scimitar up high while resting his self-repairing arm on the bare table. Clenching his teeth together, the redhead brought down the blade suddenly and let out a horrible screech as he severed the his wrist from his arm.

Hiro spun around at once, feeling so sick in the stomach that he slapped a hand over his mouth, just in case. Behind him, he could hear the assassin's heaving breaths and the repulsive sound of sawing through bone.

"Give me the torch," he heard Hans hiss at him after the sawing sound stopped. "Quick! Before this thing regrows!"

Hiro handed to him the burning pole of Mountain Ash, which he had set aflame with a wet cloth dipped in oil and a lighter. Hans allowed the flame burn through the cloth a little more, before stabbing the torch against his bleeding stub. " _Gah_!" he spat out. " _Grrrrraaaaaaggggh_!"

The young boy stepped away, covering his nose as the smell of charred flesh entered the air. Hans didn't stop there however, but persisted in holding the torch towards his dismembered arm until all the flesh of the stub was charcoal black, wheezing and cussing as he did. Only a minute later did he give the torch back to Hiro. "Take it." He nodded to the chunk of flesh that he had just chopped off. "Dispose of that too."

Hiro took the torch and retrieved the slab of gooey dripping flesh, which he carried with a latex glove. The torch he doused in a bucket of waste water in the garage, but the hunk of flesh he didn't dispose. Instead, he took to his kitchen in the back. Placing the wet, red mess mix of sinew, muscle and bone in a kitchen bowl, he covered it with cling wrap before placing it on the top level of the fridge. He may never have a chance to obtain a sample from his self-healing client, so he sure wasn't going to 'dispose of it' as Hans would have wanted.

When the boy returned to the lab, Hans was still sitting at the same spot as before, but where the charred stub had been now was a new hand. Hiro gazed in disbelief as the redhead made fist with his fresh fingers, then spreading open them once again, twisting his wrist about.

"How did it regrow so fast?" the young teen couldn't help blurting out in his awe.

Fortunately, his client wasn't too offended or impatient, now that his agony had ended. "Just need to cut out the vampire infection."

Hiro gaped. "Vampire?"

"Bit me on the arm." Hans noted the boy's worried expression. "Don't worry. Vampires aren't like werewolves. One little bite on the arm isn't enough to turn me." He twisted his wrist about, admiring his newly formed appendage. "Not that I'd ever let myself get turned, of course."

"Of course," Hiro echoed, still staring at the hand as Han slid a glove over it.

"While we're at it, I'll be needing new armour. The one that you gave me was-" the redhead pursed his lips briefly "-compromised."

The lad with spiky hair blinked. "Compromised? But I made exact to your specifications! How was it-"

"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" The sudden bellow had Hiro staggering back, almost tripping over a stray toolbox. The man's handsome face was contorted with such powerful rage that the boy genuinely feared that his flesh might be seared by it. It was only a good minute later that the wrath began to fade, and Hans ran his re-grown hand down his face, sighing deeply. "I'm sorry, kid. Didn't mean to scare you like that."

The young teen didn't move from his spot, nor did he lift his hand from the dagger that he had strapped behind him.

"Monster-hunting's a tough business," Hans went on, shaking his head, scrutinising the bloodied scimitar. He lifted the blade up to the boy, granting him a small smile, so disarming and kind that it was almost chilling. "Don't ever get into it."

Hiro nodded mutely as he accepted the proffered weapon. He spun around, intending to clean the blade off before the tarnishing set in. Just as he was about to however, the assassin spoke, "Hey, Hiro."

The boy questioned paused, glancing back at him.

"A deal's still a deal." The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. "The first vampire I slay will be yours – for your studies." His head turned towards the wooden box that sat in the middle lab, right under the sky light. "We'll bring him back."

Hiro didn't answer, merely steering himself back to his old course of action. Over the last few months after he had gained his enigmatic client, the direction of his work had changed vastly. Mechanics and robotics had been swapped for ancient weaponry, sometimes a fusion of the two. Titanium and carbon fibre were exchanged for mountain ash and silver – a tonne of silver. He had never been so obsessed with his 'project' as he was right now, especially with Hans urging him on. Why his cynical self listened to elder fellow, he wasn't sure, but there was something about the redheaded warrior that was almost irresistibly charismatic. A part of sort of believed that if Hans persuaded the Sun to rise from the North instead, the giant bob of gas would do so accordingly.

"Hey, Hiro?"

He was stopped this time at the door way, waiting to hear whatever Hans had for him.

The man removed a laptop from his sack and placed on table. "Um, I'm not very good with computers, so I was wondering if you could help me with this?"

"Okay." Because honestly, he didn't know how else to reply.

The boy then went to the cleaning room and dumped the scimitar in vinegar mix, where other sharp silver tools of his creation lay in wait for a good washing. He'd have to bother with those later though, since Hans clearly wanted his help with the laptop immediately. As he made his way back to lab once more, however, he took the route through the kitchen, and that made him stop at the fridge.

Glancing towards the hallway that led to the lab, he decided to check on the chunk of flesh – the _self-healing flesh_ – that Hans had asked him to discard. Maybe after the assassin had departed, he could study the sample, run some tests, see if he could get something out of it in case the promised vampire sample didn't work, or possibly never come.

Hiro removed the bowl from the fridge, debating with himself as with whether he should put it in the freezer instead. He didn't know how sample like these could be kept under such conditions. When he gazed down at the bowl, however, he noticed that something had changed in his sample. Ripping off the cling wrap, he stared down at the murky yellowish-brownish liquid that had gathered at the moment of the bowl. The chunk of flesh was nowhere in sight.

He dipped a finger into the liquid, and it clunk to his finger, but it wasn't all that sticky. Sniffing cautiously, it smelled like...paint? _What the heck_ \- but, _why_?

"Hey, Hiro?" he could hear Hans calling from the lab. "A little help would be great about now."

The boy set the bowl back in the fridge, not sure what to make of his peculiar finding. But this he kept to himself as darted back to the lab, shouting, "Coming!"

~~~0~~~

 _Blood Hummus (by Tooth)_

 _What you Need:_

 _2 Cups of Cooked Chickpeas_

 _1 Roasted Red Bellpepper_

 _2 Tablespoons of Tahini_

 _0.5 teaspoon of Cumin powder_

 _1 pinch of cayenne pepper_

 _0.5 cup of Coriander_

 _0.5 cup of Chicken Blood_

 _Salt & Pepper to Taste_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1) Add Chickpeas, tahini, cumin powder, bell pepper and coriander into the blender until fine crumbs_

 _2) Pour in blood slowly while mixed is mixing._

 _3) Mix in salt and pepper to taste._

 _4) Serve garnished with blood, cayenne pepper and pita bread._

~~~0~~~

She heard a little laugh coming from the foot of her bed.

Elsa's eyes popped open. Cautiously, she sat herself up. In the corner of her eye, she could see Anna's slumbering body still in her own bed, so unless this little girlish laugh belonged to Kai, she shouldn't be hearing anything.

But hear the laugh again, she did, and when she raised her eyes back to the foot of her bed, she saw her own azure eyes staring back at her from a younger body.

The girl in the bed rubbed her eyes, and her youthful double had vanished, but the laughter echoed as the door creaked open. Glancing briefly at her sleeping sister, Elsa climbed off the bed. She approached the door warily, pulling it further back. She saw a small little shadow disappearing down the stairs, giggle echoing back to her. She wrapped her gown close to her and followed quickly.

At the foot of the stairs, Elsa noticed rattling from the front door and was just in time to see the blonde braid disappearing around it. She raced forward and flung the door open, only to find that it was pouring wet outside.

Lifting a hand over her eyes, Elsa's searched rainy backdrop for any sign of the child – the one that looked so much like her. It took a while for her to spot a lithe figure standing at the edge of the woods. Only this time, the child was a little older, now looking a nine instead of six. The girl stared at her unblinkingly, not caring that her bright blue dress and her neatly braided hair was getting soaked in the rain. She turned about about and dashed into the woods.

"Wait!" Her common sense would have demanded her grab an umbrella first, or at least put on some shoes, but she didn't. She dashed out onto the road, in fervent pursuit of that child – that little version herself. Inside her churned an urgency that she couldn't explain. All that she knew was that she needed to reach that child.

The forest was thick and dark, and with the rain pouring overhead, she was going in completely blind. She coughed as some water splattered in her mouth, and she spun about frantically, seeking any sign of movement. Though it was nearly impossible to see anything, she did catch sight of a white sheet darting through the trees. So she twisted herself in that direction and took off as fast as she could.

As she chased the giggling shade, she couldn't help but notice that the darkness around her swooping and swirling past the trees, as if it wasn't merely the absence of light but a living force that loomed above her. Elsa swept her yellow locks back, ignoring her chittering teeth and her thumping heart. Instead, she clenched her fist tight, willing herself through the dastardly storm and the winding forest.

Eventually, her route took her down into a road. At first, she was confused. The young girl – the mirror image of her younger self - was nowhere in sight. As Elsa turned her head to her left however, she was greeted by a sight that was both familiar and new.

The blinking headlights of an overturned car danced upon the white fabric of her nightgown. Her bare feet had to thread carefully upon the glass-littered roads, for even the puddles could not sull their pointed edges. She could hear something coming through one of the broken windows, so she warily lowered herself to her knees, allowing herself to gaze through the shattered glass.

There, hanging upside down, was her younger self, head bruised and lip scarred the glass, body still strapped to the seat by the seatbelt.

But her younger self wasn't alone - oh, no. Her parents were there too; her father strapped to the driving seat, body limp and his head lopped forward in an unnatural angle. And her mother was strapped next to him, knocked unconscious and bleeding.

From her neck.

Elsa's eyes suddenly darted to the shadow that seemed to have curled itself under her mother's body. She could see the shape of a claw – or was that a thin bony hand? – that had latched itself to the back of her mother's neck and she could make out a head in the darkness. And she heard another sound that was not her mother's slowing breaths, nor her younger's self's tight huffing.

It was the sound of slurping. Much like the way one would slurp a drink, or soup.

Or _blood_.

And then the slurping stopped. And she watched as the head, which had been obscured from her thus far, swing itself suddenly towards her.

At that moment, she heard a soft gasp, for her thirteen-year-old self had awoken, and at that moment, Elsa saw once more what she had seen all those years ago. The only difference was that now she could identify that the sight.

A grin in the dark, and fangs dripping crimson next to her mother's body.

 _Pitch Black._

She gasped, throwing herself back and scrambling away from the overturned car, ignoring how the shards of glass pierced into her palms.

Her palms.

Her palms were uncovered.

Her hands were uncovered from elbow to fingertips. She wrung them together in horror.

"So now you know, and you must know how long I've waited."

She whipped around, and found standing before her the 'mysterious stranger' at his full height. He was dressed in a dark robe that she had never seen before, and it enveloped him as if it were his skin. In his hands was, instead of his usual cane, a long scythe, its blade glittering in the rain. And he smiled at her the very smile that haunted all her for the last five years.

Every part of her screamed to run, but her body was frozen to the ground, unable to move. She just sat there in the storm, watching the lightning dance off his gleaming fangs and his cold, silver-gold eyes. The corner of the side of his mouth was raised a little as he kneeled himself down before her, calmly reaching for her trembling left hand and leaning forward. She wanted to shrink back as he raised her wrist towards his face, which apparently amused him enough to produce a blood-curdling chuckle. "Oh, oh, _dearest Elsa._ Ever fretting over the slightest of matters."

He planted a soft kiss against her wrist, sending a shudder down her spine. She knew that the act was of some significance, but she didn't know of what.

The man in the dark robe drew nearer to her, and though her first instinct then was to sock him in the face and flee, she didn't. She was as still as statue, and perhaps as trapped as one in under its stony shell. She felt his fang lip brush against her ear and heard an unsettling whisper, _"Flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood."_

Her stomach churned, her body shook, but she could not move.

" _Thine soul I bind to mine - to torture or pleasure; to damn or to save."_ There was a peculiar sort of solemnity to his words, like one reciting an oath or a blessing. " _Upon thee, I stake my claim; upon thee, I mark my name."_

If this was a dream, she wanted to wake up. She tried, and tried, but she could not. And then she was starting realise that this mightn't exactly be Nightmare.

" _The heavens themselves cannot break that which has been formed from the unholiest depths and bound by the most defiled of laws."_ His grip on her wrist suddenly tightened and she winced, but her terror far outweighed the pain for her to pull away. _"I will be your lord, and you will be my companion; my beloved; my bride."_

 _No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO!_ Someone, anyone, _please!_ Get her out of this! PLEASE! ANYONE!

Out of nowhere, she felt him move away. Relief swelled in her. It was over.

She presumed too soon.

Teeth latched themselves to her neck. She wanted to scream, cry, whimper, anything, but she couldn't. She was frozen that very moment, incapable of controlling her own limbs or even facial expressions. She was a prisoner to her body - the very body that was being drained of its life.

Her head forcibly tilted back, her vision of the stars started to blur – whether because of the dizziness in her head or the tears in her eyes, she couldn't tell. Her unmoving limbs felt weaker than ever and she felt sensation leaving her body, slipping her into a hazy unconsciousness.

"Elsa. Elsa!"

She was awoken by the shaking of her shoulder.

The blonde girl bolted upright and shoved the hands on her away, screaming.

"Elsa! It's me!" Her flitting eyes met Anna's concerned ones. Behind her stood Kai, holding an umbrella over the two of them and looking quite troubled. "It's just me."

The sound of pelting rain all around them helped to sooth her somewhat. Elsa swallowed, head jerking side to side as she noted that she was sitting in the middle of empty road – one that she recognised led deeper west from the main town. There was no overturned car or shattered glass, just Kai's sedan that was stopped not too far away, headlights blaring on her skin.

"You were sleepwalking," her sister explained to her slowly, helping her up to her feet. "It took us ages before we found you. How on Earth did you walk this far?"

"We'll have lock the bedroom door next time," Kai said as he gently guided them back to the car. "I don't think any of us one to be caught the rain like this again, especially not at one in the morning."

"That's the thing." Anna frowned. "I'm pretty sure I did lock before turning in last night, soo…"

She rubbed her eyes, trying to calm her breaths. It was just a dream. J-just a dream. But it had felt so _real_.

Besides, dream or not, her memory was accurate. She knew for a fact who her 'mysterious stranger' was, and she trembled at the implications of her delayed realisation. "We need to go the police."

"The police?" Anna and Kai exchanged looks. Cautiously, their balding guardian asked her, "Did something happen? Were you attacked?"

The blonde girl shook her head. "But I've remembered something – something about the man who had escorted me home in the rain on Monday night." She glanced briefly at Anna, before turning to Kai. "He's dangerous, and he's in this town. We have to tell the police about him."

Confusion was written all over Anna's face, while Kai just appeared even more disturbed. "Elsa," he said in the gentlest tone possible. "When you came home on Monday night, you were alone."

"There was no man escorting you anywhere," the younger girl added.

Her jaw fell open. She clearly remembered the man – the _creature_ – having stopped her right at the door and waited for her to enter the shelter before disappearing in the night. Yet, now it kind of made sense why they didn't ask her about her odd companion that night. They wouldn't have, if they didn't even see him. "What about earlier this evening? Anna, surely you must have seen a man in black leaving-"

"I already told you, Elsa. There was no man." Anna's usually cheerful countenance was twisted in worry. "Are you alright? You're starting to scare me a little."

"Maybe we should get you someone to talk to, Elsa," Kai suggested, himself eyeing the blonde with consternation. It might have been unconscious, but the portly man had stepped between the sisters, as if shielding Anna from...well, who else?

They didn't believe her, and honestly, she wouldn't, if she were in their place. Sighing, Elsa told him weakly, "Can we talk more about this in the morning? I'm tired."

Kai nodded, conceding to indulge her just this time. But the meaningful look he shot her after Anna climbed into the car told her that they would be speaking extensively about this. He was definitely going to take her to a shrink. _Brilliant, brilliant. Absolutely stellar._

The ride home was quiet, and Elsa didn't know when she had fallen asleep, but she had. Because she awoken this time - without frightful dreams taunting her - she was in her bed. She had been changed out of her soggy nightgown, but her hair was still a little damp and desperately tangled. A glance across the room told her that Anna had already departed for school. A glance at her phone told her that it was mid-morning and she should awaken.

There were some messages in her inbox, mostly from Anna asking on her wellbeing. There were a few from her guardian, telling her that he arranged for her to see a psychiatrist in town that afternoon.

She groaned. She had hated all her visits to the shrink back in her younger years and the thought of repeating was almost horrifying as the visions she had last night. Oh, she had decided that they were just visions, because a lot of things wouldn't make sense otherwise, like watching a younger version of herself, or seeing the car wreck from a third person point of view. Even if she was right and the mysterious stranger was her parents' murderer, the dream that she had yesterday was in fact, just a dream.

The girl climbed out of bed, resolving to take a shower and get her hair fixed up. As she made her way to the bathroom, she found herself studying her left wrist.

The many scars scratched along that narrow width of flesh didn't have the same origin. Some of them were really from the crash five years ago, probably when she stuck her hand through some glass or pointy debris. Others however were completely on purpose. When 'the voice in her head' had been a great disturbance issue, she had heard of the method that some used to shed their pain. She just thought that she could kill the burning sensation along her wrist in a similar manner. Her cuts hadn't been all that deep, but it had been enough for Kai to send her straight to the mental institution. She couldn't explain exactly that she wasn't trying to kill herself – she was trying to cut the horrible ache out of that wrist. Only when she succeeded would the voice in her head stop its taunting.

They placed her under very close scrutiny after saying all that.

But out of all the scars that decorated her wrist, the most prominent was the one that didn't match the others in their long, stripy looks. No, it was a very small wound, but deep - _two puncture marks, about an inch-and-a-half apart._

She had been sure at that time that the vicious shadow that murdered her parents had been the one responsible. But after endless therapy and talking, she had conceded that even if the shadow was real, him biting her wrist after what he had done to her mother didn't make sense. In fact, looking at it now, it still didn't make sense.

Elsa slammed her hand against the switch for the bathroom before she ended, shaking her tangled mop of hair over her shoulders. As she stepped before the sink, she began to wash hands before stopping short.

The mirror in front of the sink. She had been avoiding looking at it for the last few days, in fear that she would see what she didn't want to see. Yet, at this very moment, she felt an urge do so, as if to prove that the odd sights she had seen were just figments of her imagination.

Hesitantly, she lifted her head and saw…

…her reflection staring back.

No translucent reflections. No flickering lights. Just a normal, unremarkable reflection. Well, it was a reflection of someone who seriously needed a bath.

Feeling as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Elsa decided to strip down and enter the bath stall. The warmth of the water was soothing, and scrubbing her skin made her feel refreshed. After drying off, she wrapped her towel around her now smooth yellow-white hair and put on her clothes. When she stepped back in front of the mirror, the image reflected back was still very much normal, though her complexion was rather pale.

Shrugging this little lack in her appearance, she picked up her toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste on it. Shoving it in her mouth, she began to systematically brush her teeth, the way she always did. In the middle of this routine, however, she paused, for she had noticed something about her reflection.

Elsa leaned forward, toothbrush still in her mouth as she twisted her neck to the side, running a finger down to the odd blemish she had noticed.

It was a pair of puncture marks, about an inch-and-a-half apart.

~~~0~~~

 _Thursday, 20_ _th_ _February 2014._

289 years ago, this very day, he had died. He had been seventeen.

Are people allowed to celebrate their own death anniversaries? It's kind of weird, but still - he wouldn't object to anyone giving him free cake. Or something. Anything to make this miserable day less miserable. And it's pretty miserable to be attending the funeral of someone else on the day that you also happened to have died.

"Thanks for coming with me."

"No problem." The blonde by his side let out a long sigh. "After all, I did know her too."

Both of them were standing near the back of the crowd. Everyone was garbed in black and white, with expressions largely of the former sort. Solemnity was all around as the town reverend preached on passing on, grief and difficult circumstances. The sky was overcast, fortunately, for it would be awkward to carry an umbrella if no one else was. That, or have inexplicably deep fried skin after a tenure in the sun.

"How did you guys meet?" Jack asked the doctor quietly, not wanting to disturb those listening to the sermon.

"Well, she came into my clinic with a broken arm. Said she had been climbing trees. Turned out she was foraging for a dangerous breed of juniper." She let out a small chortle, then sighed. "I spoke with her further and found out she was planning to curse a teacher for talking down at her – a Mr. Weselton?"

"The history teacher?" Jack's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, he does make a lot of people mad."

"Yes. I talked her out of it. Since then we have been friends, in a way." She added the last comment as an afterthought. "I admit I didn't know her as well as I'd hope I would. Merida kept a good deal to herself – a little too much at times." Rapunzel looked towards the object at the centre of attention and let out a deep breath. "I wonder if that might've been her undoing. Poor dear. She was a little too impulsive for her own good."

The reverend had ceased to speak, and at the small podium that had been set up, a woman had stepped up. She appeared to be in her late forties, dressed in a very sensible looking black dress and her long brown hair, along with the streak of white, was combed very carefully behind her.

"My daughter and I," she began saying, "did not exactly have the finest relationship, but she was still my daughter."

Jack let out a breath as he gawked at the prim, slender woman. Merida's mother – _also_ a witch. All Bunny's warning about witches started ringing in his mind like alarm bells. Sure Merida herself was witch, but she had proved that she was first and foremost a teenager. Heck, she saved his life even though he was a vampire! But a full-grown witch? Who knows what she would do if she knew a coven of vampire were staying in such close proximity.

He gulped.

"Merida's always been very headstrong. Gets it from her father, clearly." That earned a few chuckles from the crowd, lightening up the gloomy atmosphere somewhat. The dark-haired woman – Mrs. Dunbroch – carried on, a ghost of a smile on her lips, "We butt heads almost daily, unable to agree upon practically everything. She had always had a wild-spirit, longing for adventure and excitement. She saw herself as a hero, in a way. It had always been her intention to prove herself - on her own terms, in her own way. She had so much to live for-" a heavy, bitterness had entered her tone and her lip had curled itself down in a grimace "-so much to achieve. She was robbed of that."

Mrs. Dunbroch had to stop at that moment, for the emotion had overcome her too greatly. Though he was wary of her, Jack felt a surge of compassion when she gazed down at the box which held her only daughter. Her only daughter, who had been brutally murdered and mutilated.

"Let me make no mistake." There was fire in her eyes as she spoke, almost unnatural. "Those responsible _will_ pay."

And somehow, her gaze rested on Jack when she said that.

That had disturbed him very greatly, to the point that he didn't pay much attention to the rest of the funeral. He just found himself staring at the stately brunette woman, who didn't shed a tear as she threw the last of the roses on top of the coffin. Surrounding her was a big, brutish fellow with bright-red hair that made it obvious that he was Merida's father. By her knees stood three identical little lad's, too with the hereditary flame-coloured curls.

Once it was all over and all was left was for the family to thank the attendees, Jack felt a little nervous. He knew it'd be rude not to offer his condolences directly to them before leaving, but he couldn't help but feel very reluctant to meet Merida's mother face-to-face. When he had told Rapunzel so, she looked at him incredulously and said, "Jack, it's the least we could do. It's not as if you have tell them _how_ you know their daughter."

"But the lady's a witch, you know," the boy hissed. "What if she has mind-reading powers and she finds out-"

"Witches aren't psychic." The doctor rolled her eyes at him. "I'll go with you. C'mon."

So it was with great disinclination did Jack join Rapunzel in the queue. There was really quite a turnout, for the horror of the murder had spread across the town and many wanted to come, if only to peek into the drama. But the clutching feeling in his throat make Jack feel like the queue wasn't long enough. Before he knew it, he was standing right in front of Mrs. Dunbroch herself, trying to swallow in his anticipation.

"Thank you so much for coming," she murmured to the person who was ahead of him. Then Mrs. Dunbroch turned to him and he was found himself thrown off by those very brown, very dark eyes.

Trying to get a grip on himself, Jack stuttered as he held his hand out. "I-I-I'm really s-s-sor-ry ab-about-"

The lady was clearly touched by his efforts to express himself, and her warm handshake was evident of that. "Thank you, young man. We struggle, but we'll get by."

Their hands parted, and Jack was only too glad to move on to shake the giant that was Merida's father – you know, the one that didn't know that his wife and daughter were witches. But just as he was about to shake Mr. Dunbroch's hand, he heard the woman say, "Just a moment."

Inwardly, he screamed. Outwardly, he turned towards the woman and inquired weakly, "Yes?"

Mrs. Dunbroch squinted hard at him, stepping forward. Jack tried not to flinch too obviously.

She cocked her head to the side, before saying finally, "I know you - from the papers. You're Jack Guardian, aren't you? Jack F. Guardian."

He could lie, but he knew it wouldn't be convincing. "Yeah. That's me."

"My daughter's body was found in your locker."

Yep, she was going that route. "Yes."

Mrs. Dunbroch's gaze did not waver, nor did her voice. "Why yours? "

He could only shrug, because honestly, he was still trying to figure it out himself. "I don't know."

She seemed disappointed with his answer, but merely answered, "Well, have a safe journey home. Thank you for coming."

As he and Rapunzel walked themselves out of the cemetery, she told him, "I need to do some shopping in town first. Will you be alright getting home?"

"Don't worry." He nodded, sending her wry grin. "I'm a strong independent young man. I can look after myself."

She chuckled at his reply, before heading down towards the road that led to the town centre. Jack started hesitantly on the road that would bring him back home. Technically, there was still school on today, but he was planning on using shock as a reason for skipping out. He did need to help Tooth pack if they were still moving out by Sunday.

Then again, though he wasn't really shocked anymore. Just disturbed, and the witch's question rung his ears.

' _Why yours?'_

Why Merida? Why him? Who was this murderer? And what he or she trying to convey?

~~~0~~~

 _Chongqing Mao Xue Wang (by Bunny)_

 _1 Cup of Duck Blood Curd_

 _0.5 Cups of Ham_

 _0.5 Cups of Duck Tripe_

 _0.5 Cups of Bean Sprouts_

 _4 Tablespoon of Cooking Oil_

 _1 sliced Dried Red Pepper_

 _2 teaspoon of Sichuan peppercorn_

 _0.5 teaspoons of sesame seeds_

 _Three sprigs of Parsley_

 _0.5 Cups of Spicy Hot Sour Sauce_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1)Wash all meat products. Slice all up into chunks._

 _2)Boil 2 cups of water. Add Spicy Hot Sour sauce._

 _3)Add in Blood cud, Ham, Tripe into the water and allow to cook._

 _4)In another pot of boiling water, add washed bean sprouts and blanch._

 _5) Drain all, and put together in the same bowl._

 _6)Add oil into the wok and heat. Add Sichuan peppercorn and chili pepper until aromatic. Sauté thrououghly before pouring over the rest of the meat._

 _7) Sprinkle sesame seeds and parsley on the dish and serve._

~~~0~~~

As the grieving family were on their way out of the cemetery, a dark-haired woman dressed all in black appeared near the exit. She approached them, manner all gushing, "I'm so, so terribly sorry, but do you know where the funeral for the girl _'Merida Dunbroch'_ is being held? I do hope that I'm not too late."

The husband and wife exchanged looks, before Elinor answered, "I'm afraid we've just concluded the funeral."

"Oh, oh dear." The woman did seem genuinely disappointed. "That infernal car of mine. It's a never-ending source of trouble. Oh, oh-" her attention flitted to the family "-I just wanted to give my condolences. What happened – simply dreadful to the core."

"Thank you," Elinor told her sincerely, but tiredly. After shaking the woman's hand, Fergus had gone off ahead to catch up with the boys, who had already sprinted down the hill, towards the parking lots.

Thinking it wouldn't polite to send this woman off so hastily after all her efforts to get here, Elinor decided to strike up some conversation. "Did you know Merida?"

"Not in person, I'm afraid," the other woman lamented fashion. She had black, frizzy hair that extended to her waist, and a pair of deathly grey eyes. "I did read it in the papers though, and my heart instantly went out to a fallen sister, especially one so young."

It was then Elinor noticed the charm bracelet around the woman's wrist. Not like the charm bracelets made of plastic that some girls would make. _No,_ bracelet was woven from soft hair cut from young horses, and the tokens hanging from it depicted symbols that she was only too familiar. She looked up at the visitor with surprise.

The woman smiled.

Elinor then peered down the hill, where Fergus was talking to the boys. From the expression on their poor little faces, it seemed that the loss of their sister had struck them rather hard. It would be a while before they were done. To the black-haired woman by her side, she said, "Would you walk a while with me? I can show you where she's buried."

The two of them wandered back into the cemetery, past the moss-covered stones and the covered pits.

"I didn't know there were other witches in Burgess," was the first thing that Elinor said to her newfound companion.

"Well, there might be, but I'm not from around here," the black-haired woman answered, shrugging back her long poncho - so long, it might even resemble a cloak. By the faded motifs on it, it was likely that this woman had been wearing this for quite some time, and Elinor guessed that her companion's fair appearance was a result of an enchantment. "I'm here on family business, in fact."

"If you don't know Merida, then how did you know that she and I are a witches?" The mother was curious.

"On the papers, there's a picture of her in the green dress," her guest explained. "I saw she was wearing a necklace, with this pendant of bears looped in the shape of triskelion. I knew immediately that she had to be a descendant of the legendary Artio of Arctucus." The woman inclined her head towards Elinor. "That bloodline must come through you."

"You are clearly very well-versed in your history of our kind," was all she could say in reply to the stunning knowledge.

"Yes, yes, I had used my years to mould myself into the finest witch I could be," the visitor said with a prideful air, gesturing at herself with her perfectly manicured fingernails. "I didn't want to have myself occupied with affairs with men. Such of a waste of time and space, they are."

That was most certainly a jab at her, but Elinor shrugged it off. Procreation, whilst considered a necessity amongst witches, was rarely the respected route. Nonetheless, she had no regrets of her decision to place motherhood before her craft. "Of course."

When they arrived at the gravesite, the black-haired woman lay down the lilies that she had brought. "Just sixteen years," she murmured as she stepped away from the grave. "What a tragedy this truly is!" Facing Elinor, she added, "I am terribly, terribly sorry about your loss. Is she your only one?"

Elinor nodded.

"Dreadful, dreadful. And the way that her life ended – despicable! Who could have done such a terrible thing?"

"I don't know yet. But whoever it is, they will pay dearly," she vowed with a still resolve.

"Yes, yes, they must," her companion agreed. "I would aid in your quest, my good sister. But I'm afraid I've embarked on an rather urgent one of my own. A rather dangerous one, I might add, and I'm not sure if I'll survive it." Noting Elinor's startled expression, she laughed it off. "Oh, silly me. Making sound so dramatic like that."

In her sharp mind, the other witch recalled the words exchanged before. "You said you were here on a family matter."

"Yes, yes." The woman appeared a little hesitant. "Well, you see – I don't know how else to put it, but I too have lost my own daughter many years ago."

"Oh." Elinor was surprised, and then sympathetic. "I'm sorry about that."

"Oh, no, no. Not that way." Her companion was hasty to correct. "She's not dead – not yet anyway. But she's a prisoner to a very powerful creature, trapped by him in a terrible trance." A worried frown appeared on her face. "The creature had seduced her, you see. He filled her head with lies, turned her against me and convinced her to run off with him. I've been trying to find them ever since, and tracked them here." She rubbed her temple, expression mournful. "Poor girl – she never realised what he was. I wouldn't surprise that she might remain beguiled by his deception."

Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of creature?"

"Only the most foul of them all," the woman sneered scornfully. " _Nosferatu_."

The word was enough to make Elinor stand ramrod straight – well, straighter than she already. "Vampires?"

"Yes."

"In Burgess?" She was aghast. The notion that such a defiled, despised creature could be within miles of her own home – of her children! She couldn't believe it.

"I think might be possible for there to be more than one even."

More than one of those horrible, undead beings? That sent an churning feeling straight down to her gut. "And your daughter," Elinor said slowly, "is she one of those 'brides' that they talk about?"

"Oh, goodness! No. At least, I hope not." The woman had clearly never considered this idea before, and it disturbed her. "At any rate, my first goal would be to destroy the creature controlling her, then I'll deal with her accordingly."

Elinor pressed a finger against her lip as she pondered. "I wonder," she said at last, "if there might be some connection between your _nosferatu_ and my daughter's murderer."

"Perhaps," the other woman echoed thoughtfully. "If that be the case, then we should stay in contact."

"Yes." The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a sound idea. As much as she wanted to a law-abiding citizen, the truth was that if the police couldn't find her daughter before she was killed, it was unlikely they would be able to find her murderer at all. Maybe this killer was not exactly a run-in-the-mill serial killer, but a being of unnatural origin who would need unnatural methods of condemnation.

Like a _vampire_. The beheading would be the perfect cover-up for a bite mark, if nothing else.

The two of them exchanged small selenite stones, which would allow them to communicate with one another from a distance, and even locate each other. Elinor would have preferred to exchange phone numbers, except that her companion didn't have a phone.

"Good luck in your endeavours," was the farewell her visitor gave when they returned back to the entrance of the cemetery. She gripped Elinor's hand firmly. "Do not hesitate to let me know if you require any assistance. I never refuse a sister of the arts."

"Likewise," Elinor wished her, before they started on their separate paths. In the distance, she could see the boys sitting by their father on a tree stump, clearly waiting for her. She hastened her way towards them. A few seconds later, however, a startling realisation occurred to her and she called to her fellow witch, "Wait!"

The woman with black curls halted as requested, spinning towards her with a puzzled mien."

"We never introduced ourselves." She gestured to herself. "I'm Elinor Dunbroch."

"Ah, yes." The other witch then made a small little curtsey. "Well for me, it's Gothel. Just Gothel."

~~~0~~~

"You really should get home. You look like you're gonna drop dead any second."

Anna scowled and rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. Fine. But after I'm done with my meet-up."

"No," Kristoff contradicted, ignoring how to quickened her pace as if to flee from him. "You should go home right now and rest. Anna, you were sleeping through art class – and you love art!"

"I know, I know, but-" the girl rubbed her eyes "-I promised I'd go see-" _yawn_ "-and don't know when else I'll have a chance."

"Tell whoever it is to postpone it," was her companion's suggestion. He sighed and scratched his head. "Look, Anna, I don't know if it's because the blood donation thing, or the crazy murder that just happened at our school, but I _do_ know that you're not feeling well. I mean, just look at you!"

Anna supposed there was a measure of truth to his observation, but it wasn't really the murder thing or the donation that was bothering her. She didn't know the girl involved in the former and the details of the latter had been all wrapped up. Nope, the problem was that she had spent her night looking for her sleepwalking sister, changing her out of her soaked clothes, before proceeding to worry about her.

Just remembering all that made her groan. Elsa really didn't seem like herself anymore. Wanting to go the police? Seeing people that didn't exist? Not only that, she had lost her fire, her meticulousness, her task-orientated mannerisms. She just looked so lost, so pale, so … _tired._ It was like there was something sucking the life out of her.

Unlike Kai, Anna didn't want Elsa to see a psychiatrist, but if she wasn't going to tell them what was really going on, maybe she'd tell a stranger.

"Look, I'll drive you home if you want," the blonde boy told her as they went past the gates of the campus, out to the parking lots. "I've got the car for today."

Anna shook her head, but shot him a grateful smile. "I'm good, Kristoff. Don't worry."

Her assurance wasn't enough to calm him, clearly, but he made no further objection as he went down the lots to where his sedan was parked. Anna took the path instead, heading for the bus stop, yawning again as she did. Whipping out her phone, she noticed that she had a new message.

' _In town. Want anything to drink?'_

She typed back, _'Double choc-mocha would be great. I think my brain is dying.'_

' _One double choc-mocha coming right up, your majesty ;)_ , _'_ was the answer in return. _'Can't wait to see you again.'_

Despite her exhaustion, Anna smiled, a warm feeling bubbling in her chest. This, she's sure, was true love.

~~~0~~~

 _Turkish-style Pilaf (by North)_

 _1 tablespoon of butter_

 _1 tablespoon of cooking oil_

 _2 tablespoons orzo pasta_

 _1 cup of Calrose rice_

 _1 cup of chicken broth_

 _1 cup of chicken blood_

 _Salt & Black pepper (to taste)_

 _1) Add oil and butter to a heated pan._

 _2) Once melted, add pasta and stir non-stop till pasta turns dark gold._

 _3) Add uncooked rice to pan, stirring such all the rice is mixed into the oil._

 _4) Pour in blood and broth._

 _5) Cover pan with lid and reduce heat. Allow simmer till liquid dries up._

 _6) Remove from heat and allow to cool with lid on._

 _7) Remove lid and stir rice before serving._

~~~0~~~

She was crazy. One hundred percent crazy. No, one hundred and fifty percent out of her mind. There were so many ways that this could wrong.

One; she was pretty sure that they were some kind of monster. Hans said that they were vampires, but then, even if after seeing all the blood in the fridge and finding a book full of blood recipes, it didn't mean that she trusted his judgement. But whatever they were, the Guardians were a weird, if not dangerous, bunch.

Two; she had stabbed one of them just four days ago. If Bunny hadn't survived, they will be on a warpath against her, and she wouldn't blame them the slightest bit.

Three; even if they didn't hurt her or blame her, there was no guarantee that they could help her. I mean, whatever was happening with her was so bizarre that she didn't really know what was going on.

But knowing all this hadn't stopped her from walking up Lake Road.

She had tried calling Hans, but he wasn't picking up. Well, she didn't really like relying on him anyway. The prejudice that she had since the first she had laid eyes on him still remained, and after he had allowed her to enter a house full of vampires with two puny weapons, she couldn't help but feel that he was up to something. There was Kai's option of seeing a shrink, but now that she had seen bite marks with her own eyes, she was certain that it wasn't just a dream and she wasn't just dream. Besides, other than the bite mark, she also had the beautiful sapphire ring. She hadn't dared to wear it, so merely slipped in her pocket. Perhaps the Guardians would know what she should do with it.

As she drew up to the massive mansion, Elsa hesitated. The last time she was here, she had come dashing out in fear and consternation, holding to her stolen goods. It was that very stolen book that she carried in her bag now, hoping that _its_ return might to return _her_ to the good graces of the Guardians. And if they were really vampires like all the evidence suggested, then maybe – just maybe – they would consider helping her instead of bleeding her dry.

She was going to die today, wasn't she?

The girl rubbed her thumb against her neck, against the part where she knew the bite lay. She refused to chalk it up to an insect bite. The bite matched the one on her wrist too much for it to be anything else. Something – some _one_ – called Pitch Black had bitten her, and she had a feeling that he'd do it again at the next opportunity.

She needed the help, like it or not.

Elsa didn't know if it was wise, placing her fate in the hands of strangers, but at least she knew one amongst those strangers, and he cared for her. At least, he seemed to imply that he did. Well, okay, maybe she just saw what she wanted to see – she didn't know! She was kind of knew to this whole _accursed dating_ thing, _okay?_

At that moment whilst she grappled with her decision, Elsa suddenly noticed a figure walking down Lake Road. There was only one house on the entire road, which meant that the figure belonged to someone coming to the Guardian mansion. In a bolt of panic, the blonde girl dashed off the road, into the nearby forest. She hid her behind a tree, clutching the book to her chest as she peeked out.

The figure that she had seen was not one familiar to her. The lovely young lady – or, well, she looked like a girl, really – had the longest hair Elsa had ever laid eyes on. It was all plaited up with, such that the tip of it barely brushed the floor. Yet, she skipped forward with such cheer and grace that one would never suspect the weight. What more, the girl with the long-hair was hauling with her some grocery bags. Was she one of the Guardians? _No, no_. The only of female amongst the Guardians was Tooth, and she didn't look the slightest like this blonde girl with such a bright smile.

The young lady, whose bright yellow hair was a painful contrast to her black dress, hooked all her carrier bags to one arm before pressing on the bell.

A few seconds later. The door opened, and Elsa's heart almost stopped when she saw him. It's been only three days, but it had felt like centuries. "Hey, you're finally back. What took you so long?"

 _What took you so long?_ So he knew this girl with long gold hair. Moreover, he was _expecting her_ to _return?_ So she had been here earlier? Or worse - she was staying in the mansion?Who was she?

"Sorry about that," the blonde said, with a little giggle in her voice as she spoke. Elsa rolled her eyes. Her every gesture reeked bimbo. "Got a little distracted in the supermarket. Felt like picking up everything on sale, you know?"

"I feel you," Jack said, beaming back at her. "Sometimes they sell those awful ready-to-eat packaged sausages in like one-for-one and I end up buying them though I hate the taste."

"I know, right?"

Oh, great, they were bonding over grocery shopping – _grocery shopping! WHY?_

"Those bags look a tad heavy. You need to some help with them?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you, Jack." Oh, _perfect_. The blonde bimbo with hair issues was beaming up at him now. Of course, it would be just _lovely_ to feed his ego, which would clearly make herself a dozen times more attractive. Just the kind of thing girls like that would do.

After the long-haired girl had followed Jack into the mansion and the door fell shut, any inclination that Elsa had to approaching the porch had vanished. She casted a disgusted look toward the leather-bound book in her arms, flinging it down to the ground. She didn't care if she just dropped an ancient artefact in a rain puddle, and she certainly didn't care the slightest about Jack Flippin' Guardian, especially if he was able to move on _that_ quickly.

A reasonable part of her surmised that perhaps she was mistaken. Perhaps the blonde woman just a family friend, who happened to gorgeous, dainty, infective cheerful and…and maybe like the Guardians, whatever their peculiar nature was. If she was staying in their home, it was clear that she had their approval.

Not like some crazy person went around stabbing people, sleepwalking and seeing ghosts.

As she hurriedly plunged her way through the forest, Elsa wiped off any silly tears that dare form. It was clear that it was over – _'it'_ being whatever semblance of a relationship she had with Jack. Even if it wasn't really over, she should end it. Because what was the point when he had clearly more favourable options, and they probably couldn't stay together anyway?

At one point, she had to stop running, because her vision had become fully obscured. She pressed her gloved palm against her eyes, trying to swallow down the sobs that threatened to explode in her throat.

' _You don't need him,'_ the voice in the back of her head whispered.

"S-shut up," she answered out loud through sniffles.

There were no snarky comeback, no taunting mockery. She was alone now.

She was all alone.

~~~0~~~

 **The intrigue builds as more is being revealed about our characters. Huzzah, huzzah!**

 **In my first draft of Chapter 13, I had actually a different intro for Gothel, because you see, I couldn't decide how or when I wanted to introduce her. After banging my head thirty times on the wall, having my bro phone the ambulance, get warded for five days and two nights, with massive plastic surgery, a brain transplant, having my consciousness transferred to a clone body of myself, fifty years of physiotherapy and eating muesli for three square meals a day, I finally came up with the idea of introducing her and Elinor at the same time. Mothers and daughters, after all, and both witches.**

 **So I'm sure you guys will love more Jelsa moments, but bear with me, because at this point of the story, so some stuff has to go down first. Watching Stranger Things has helped inspire much in this story, to the point that sometimes I can't write this story at night lest the monster under my bed decides to eat me.**

 **Other than that, all's peachy.**

 **Would love reviews if you can spare some, but if you don't wanna, well, eh.**

 **MERRRRRRRYY CHRISTMAS! IT's AIN'T A DAY, BUT A SEASON! YAHOOOOOOOOOO!**


	15. Chapter 15

**It's been 3 months, so a little refresher:**

 **Of Elsa:** _She felt his fanged lip brush against her ear and heard an unsettling whisper,_ _"Flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood."_ _Her stomach churned, her body shook, but she could not move._

 **Of Jack Frost:** _289 years ago, this very day, he had died. He had been seventeen. Are people allowed to celebrate their own death anniversaries?_

 **Of the Guardians:** _"But we're planning to move out this Sunday!"_

 **Of Elinor Dunbroch, mother of the deceased Merida:** _"Let me make no mistake." There was fire in her eyes as she spoke, almost unnatural. "Those responsible_ _will_ _pay." And somehow, her gaze rested on Jack when she said that_

 **Of the one called 'Gothel':** _"Well, you see … but I too have lost my own daughter many years ago…_ _Oh, no, no. She's not dead – not yet anyway. But she's a prisoner to a very powerful creature, trapped by him in a terrible trance."_

 **Of Eugene Fitzherbert, or whatever name he bears presently:** _It was just three seconds after he had walked out of the flaming front door, clothes on his back burning and the bundle in his arms not, when another explosion burst through the bungalow…_ _With the state of his leg, it was gonna be a long trek to Burgess._

~~~0~~

 **Sort of Warning: Some disturbing ideas near end of chapter. If you can bear with it, you're fine for the rest of this story. Still T-rating.**

~~~0~~~

"That would be four dollars."

Hans handed over the appropriate amount, and didn't miss the way the cashier's cheeks flushed when their hands brushed. He pretended not to notice though, because that's part of his charm – the charming but clueless dork. It's a guise that seemed quite popular these days.

He moved over to the collection counter after getting his receipt. There's no one else in the queue, since most other patrons of the café have already obtained their orders and drifted off their separated ways. Bored, he caught sight of the newspaper stand nearby and decides to browse it while waiting.

 _DRACULA' STRIKES AGAIN!_

 _Within a span of week, the blood-thirsty attacker has snared his second victim, and this time, he has succeeded._

 _Merida Dunbroch, the sixteen year old student who has been missing since two days prior, has been found brutally beheaded at Burgess High. Her family had laid her to rest today at the Burgess County Cemetery, with over hundreds of her schoolmates spotted in attendance. The authorities have vowed that the murder behind this brutal act will found and brought to justice._

Hans snorts.

 _For all the promises, however, reliable sources have hinted that the police remain confound the methods of the mysterious 'Dracula', as well as his goals. Fortunately, Private Investigator Flynn Rider, famed for solving the Pines' Kidnapping and the Music box Mystery with Corona PD, is on the case._

The redhead quirked a brow as he replaced the paper on its rack, for the other articles were just talking about these terrible storms that have been happening and the numerous casualties. Nothing of particular interest to him.

"Double Chocolate Mocha for Hans?" the barista called.

He headed to the counter to retrieve his order, and wasn't completely surprised to find that the accompanying napkin had a number scribbled on it. The barista's not looking at him, but there's slight blush to her cheeks and her grin was a little too wide.

He thanked her before taking the beverage up to the self-serve table. Uncapping his chosen drink, his hands brushed briefly over the shakers full of cinnamon and vanilla sprinkles, before resting on the chocolate one. At the same time, his free hand reached in his pocket for a tiny vial, barely longer than his thumb. A quick glance around the café proved that no one was watching him. Well, except for the barista, but she shyly glanced away when their eyes met.

Using his body to shield his work, Hans removed the cap of the vial and emptied the clear turquoise liquid into the coffee. It's barely visible on the whip cream, but he uses a straw to stir it in just in case. He then dumps a generous helping of cocoa dust over the drink. Like magic, all signs of his manipulation had were smoothly covered.

After replacing the cap, he checked once more if there were any watchful eyes – there weren't – before using the napkin with the phone number to scratch off the 'H' and 'S' on the cup. Behind the 'AN' that the barista had scribbled there, he added an 'N' and 'A' with the black marker that he had stolen from the counter. Grabbing a few more napkins just in case, he then departed the café, though not before giving the barista a little wave.

The young woman went completely nuts over it. It's kind of ridiculous, he thought to himself as he climbed into his car, how easily it was to manipulate the fairer sex.

The redheaded gentleman checked his phone for the location, before setting off to the desired destination. The town's traffic was easy-going this afternoon, and the only time he had to stop was for a red light. When that happened, he glanced behind him to the backseat, just to make sure that he had brought everything that he needed.

Finally, his sedan drew up to the bus stop just around the high school. The school seemed largely deserted, probably because its students had already gone off to spend their afternoon on other frivolities. There was only one figure slumped against the bus-stop bench, with bags under eyes and a yawn gracing her lips.

He buried his feelings of disgusts, rolling down his window and beaming at the girl. "Hey, sleepyhead."

Her eyes widened when she saw him, and her smile stretched itself so wide that it's a wonder that her cheekbones hadn't crack. "Hans!"

He let out a chuckle, the one that he knew had been described as utterly enchanting. His head jerked towards the seat next to his. "Hop on."

Anna was only too glad to comply, and her eyes widened when she saw the double-chocolate mocha waiting in the cup holder next to their seat. "Is that for me?" she asked as the car door slammed shut behind her, locking itself.

"Well, I don't know any other beautiful young lady in need of a caffeine kick," Hans answers in a good-humoured fashion.

That earned a giggle from her and she reached to take the drink eagerly.

"Uh, uh." He slapped her hand away just as the car started rolling away. He surveyed the environment quickly. No one in sight, so no one could say where she went. His expression didn't betray any of his meticulousness. "Seat-belt first."

She pouted at him, and he supposed that if he were genuinely attracted to her, he'd find it adorable. But after years of the most beautiful women in the world throwing themselves at him, nothing's really adorable to him anymore, especially not some brainless, high-school bimbo.

After buckling herself in, Anna picked up the double-choc mocha and began slurping it up, humming in delight. Smacking her lips, she said to him, "So, where've you been? So many crazy things have been happening around here!"

"Wow, really?" He feigned surprised. "I mean, I had to go out of town for a few days, so I'm a bit out of the loop."

"Oh, I can tell you all about it." She took the bait. Of course, she did. She really liked the sound of her own voice. Taking a slurp of her coffee, Anna proceeded to elaborate, "First up, I ended up in hospital after Valentine's Day. It was CRAZY, and Elsa – my sister, in case you don't remember – was really nuts, because apparently, that time after you left me at my house, I-" she suddenly stopped, thinking.

As she thought, she took a number slurp of coffee, frowning. Turning to him, she asked, "Actually, what happened that night?"

"What do you mean _'what happened that night'_?" he questioned back in a perfectly innocent tone.

"I mean, I assume that you dropped me off at my house." Her brows creased together. "But actually, I don't remember watching you leave."

"Really?" His tone stayed neutral, and his eye briefly flitted to his watch as he drove them deeper and deeper into the forest-covered road. "Because I did leave."

"Yeah, but the next time I woke up, I was lying in a puddle of blood, and I-" she frowned, as a realisation dawned on her, one that she didn't seem to like. "I mean, I was attacked by someone after you left. But if it's after you left, how come I don't remember seeing you-"

"You," he interrupted, tone abruptly icy, "are incredibly stupid, aren't you?"

The change in manner stunned her so much that the coffee nearly slipped from her hands. Disbelief marked in her expression, she whispered, "What?"

"I said." His voice was harsh. He stepped harder onto the pedal. By now they were far out enough in the woods, so it wouldn't matter if she screamed. "You are incredibly stupid, aren't you?"

She still didn't believe it. Of course she didn't. Because if she was stupid enough to believe in love at first sight, she was stupid enough to get in a car with a stranger and consume the first thing he put her hands.

It was so, _so_ gratifying to see her suddenly double forward, clutch her chest and gasp. The coffee spillage on the dashboard was, however, regrettable.

~~~0~~~

 _Egg Bhurji (by Tooth)_

 _What You Need:_

 _4 Eggs_

 _1 Cup of chopped Pork Blood_

 _3 Green Chilies_

 _1 Tablespon of Ginger paste_

 _2 Finely Chopped Onions_

 _2 tbsp Oil_

 _0.5 Cup of Corainder Leaves_

 _Salt & Pepper to Taste_

 _What To Do:_

 _1) Whisk eggs with fork and set aside._

 _2) Add oil to medium heat pan. Spread it evenly._

 _3) Add chopped onions and ginger paste. Sautee till frangrant._

 _4) Add in green chillies._

 _5) Add chopped blood. Allow the water produced to dry up._

 _6) Stir in some coriander leaves and add salt._

 _7) Pour in whisked eggs. Don't scramble them yet, but let them cook._

 _8) When the egg is half cooked, stir the mixture until small bits of egg are formed._

 _9) Remove heat and stir in rest of coriander._

 _10) Serve with buttered bread or rice._

~~~0~~~

This was, for the lack of a better term, positively diabetic.

Jack watched in rapture as the lithe woman by his side added spoon after spoon of caster sugar into the bowl. Horrified rapture, mind you.

Eventually, her hand got tired, so she just ditched the spoon, picked up the sides of the plastic container and just dumped that at least half of its contents into the mixing bowl.

"Okay." She finally ceased the waterfall, but the deed had already been done. Looking at the little white hill in mixing bowl sent all kind of queasy feelings down Jack's gut. "Let's stir it up again."

Wordlessly, the boy lowered the hand-mixer into the bowl, but he couldn't shooting uneasy glances towards the woman. No one could possibly eat this much sugar and still be alive. Well, okay, he was a vampire, so he wasn't alive. But seriously, even the undead would think twice before consuming this much sweetness.

"When do you think we should we add the blood in?" Rapunzel asked him, completely oblivious about her crime against decent cuisine. For a doctor, her dietary habits were quite appalling.

"Let's mix it a bit more first," was all he managed to say. Jack upped the speed of mixer, doing his best to down the sugar into the doughy-emulsion. If he couldn't see the sugar, then maybe he could pretend it wasn't there. Hmmph. Maybe this was the real reason her husband didn't like her cookies. Note to self – quarter the amount of sugar in the recipe for the future.

Our young vampire had been working to keep himself as occupied as possible, and cooking was one of the best ways he knew how. Which was sort of weird, because he wasn't actually that great a cook. But it also sort of made sense, because his sub-par cooking skills meant that he had to take extra focus to do the steps right, and right now he wanted his focus diverted. Diverted from the horrible death, the horrible funeral, and the horrible conversation with Merida's mother.

Okay, the funeral was lovely and Merida's mum was polite, but it was the feelings that they stirred in him, feelings that he hadn't dwelled on for the longest time.

Guilt.

It wasn't that Jack had forgotten his own murderous past. After all, it had been quite instrumental in shaping who he was today. But the feelings that had come attached to every neck that he had mutilated, every being that had sucked dry of blood, had been muted under the mundane routine of domesticity. Only on occasion would it fire up full force, replaying all the pale faces and ripped flesh.

Though he wasn't the one who killed her, Merida's face did not leave him. It was understandable, since now her face was attached to her head, which itself would never again be attached her body.

Sixteen, dammit. She was sixteen. Just a kid. Well, he was kid when he died to, but, hey, seventeen was pretty much adulthood in the day. In the present times, sixteen was like the in-between. Not quite child, but not quite adult. It was the prime of the teenage years. With the snap of the fingers – gone. Just like that. _Just like that._

When Rapunzel told him to remove the mixer and continue the folding of dough by hand, he was only too happy to do so. Punching mixture gave him something to do, something to think about other than mortality and blood and murder and how cursedly unjust it all. He knew that the police were on the case, knew that he wasn't blamed in anyway, but it didn't stop the gnawing deep inside of him – and it wasn't his appetite.

"Err, Jack?" came a small voice from Rapunzel.

"What?" He paused his actions, glancing up towards her.

She pointed down to the edge of the bowl, where four dents marked its rim. It seemed that his grip was a bit too tight.

"Oh." He dropped the bowl on the table. "Ah."

"Maybe you can help me get the chocolate?" The blonde suggested in a helpful manner. "I can do the rest of mixing. There isn't much."

He didn't protest, even though her instructions didn't make much sense. Washing the dough from his hands, Jack headed out of the kitchen to the living room, where Rapunzel had dumped her groceries and some other knick-knacks that she had with her. She wasn't too keen to share the main fridge since, well, most of it was blood and not very hygienic. He had promised to help her transfer the cold products to the drink fridge they had upstairs, but before they had done so, they had gotten distracted by baking.

After fishing out the industrial sized chocolate bar that she bought, he turned on his heel and was about to leave when a hand wrapped itself around his wrist.

"What the-" he jerked his head towards the perpetrator to find "-Eugene?"

"Hi." The vampire was obviously not in a good mood, if his expression was anything to go by. By his tattered clothes, bleeding leg, multiple scars, it was pretty obvious why.

"What happened to you?" The boy gawked, before glancing at the box that he had tucked under his hip. It was labelled in a scrawl _'Eloise'_. "What's that?"

"I need you to put this somewhere safe." The brunette man's gait was one-sided, and it's cause was evident by the large red patch on his leg. But he didn't seem to notice it as he hobbled to the doorway, glancing down the corridor. "Where's Rapunzel?"

"In the kitchen," Jack supplied. The cooking expedition was quite forgotten by now. "I'll go get her to-"

"No, no." Eugene's grip on him tightened uncomfortably. His voice was lowered, as if he feared being overheard. "Not yet. I can't let her see me like this. She'd freak."

The younger fellow scrunched his face up. "She's a doctor! She's not going to freak over your wounds."

"No. She'd freak on how I got them." He shoved the cardboard box into Jack's hands. "Now hide this somewhere safe. I've got something to show you."

Puzzled, Jack conceded to the vampire's odd request, hiding the box in a Vietnamese-style lacquered cupboard along the cupboard. Locking it up, he pressed the key in Eugene's hand. The vampire pocketed it before gesturing him to follow.

Evening was falling quicker than usual, what with all the dark clouds overhead. It was perpetually cloudy these days, for some reason, with rainfall often falling. Eugene however hadn't seem to notice this, marching straight towards the forest. Well, marching as well as a limping man could. He didn't enter the forest however, just stopped by one of the trees along its rim.

Jack sidled up next to him, waiting for him to explain.

Finally, Eugene asked, "How many surveillance cameras do you have surrounding the house?"

This question threw him off. "Err. None?"

"Is that so? Then what is-" he pointed up, between the branches of a bald conifer "-that?"

Jack squinted up in the gestured direction. At first, he didn't see it. But then, the reflection of the lens against the porch light. It was a wonder that his jaw didn't hit the ground. "How long it has that been there?"

"They."

"What?"

"How long have _'they'_ been there?" Noting the white-haired lad's mystified expression, Eugene elaborated in a surprisingly neutral fashion, "I've counted at least fifteen in around the mansion."

"Fifteen?" Without a thought, the younger vampire had already leapt up the tree, reaching for the hidden the device and crushed it in his hands. The remaining pieces fell like sand down to the ground as he growled, "Where are the rest?"

"Well, there's a couple more that way but-"

And there Jack went, springing from tree to tree with such agility that monkeys would be envious. But he didn't have the carefree joy of a monkey as he did his hasty circuit through the branches. He was a man on a mission, seeking out the unassuming black devices and smashing them between his palms. He didn't dare look at them. He didn't dare imagine the hands that had bought them, that set them up. He didn't dare imagine the eyes that had been watching the footage. In his mind, alarm bells clanged, _how long, how long, how long…_

When he landed back next to Eugene, he had with him the crushed debris of twenty cameras.

"As I was saying," the brunette fellow sounded a little annoyed, "it's probably too late to remove them. Whoever planted them already has all the information they need. They know your movements – yours, and all those of Guardians." His expression darkened. "They know my wife's here. They probably worked out her name. That's how they knew where our home was."

Jack spun to him, brows raised.

And so that was when Eugene told him of the assailant that had invaded his and Rapunzel's home, had fought him, had survived a shot through the head but _wasn't_ a vampire, had set their home ablaze and had escaped with Rapunzel's laptop.

"Don't know what he was, but he's dangerous. With Rapunzel's laptop, more so than ever," was the grim conclusion, ending with a hiss from Eugene as he shifted his weight from his good leg to bad one briefly – just briefly.

The boy frowned. "What's so important about the laptop?"

"Oh, nothing of grave importance. Just the detailed records of every patient my wife has ever had." His light tone gained an edge of gravity. "Including those of the more _peculiar_ nature."

"How many … _peculiar_ patients has she had?"

"Hundreds across the last decade, even before we came to Burgess." Eugene chewed on his lip briefly, digging his hands in his pockets. "If this guy's from Van Helsing, like I think he is, all he needs is to send that data to headquarters and boom - bloodbath."

Jack cursed every word he knew, tugging against his hair as he paced up down the grounds. Darkness was closing in now, and the two of them would have to head back in, but he didn't want to. He felt like he couldn't, knowing that the home he had treasured all these years was no longer as safe as he once thought it was.

"Also, the laptop has my wife's research. It contains a lot of lesser-known discoveries of unnatural creatures, including vampires," his limping companion added. "These facts could be easily used against us one day."

"Oh, brilliant," Jack muttered sarcastically. "Is there anything else you'd like to unload on me?"

"Not at the moment." Eugene rolled his shoulders back. "But we should really work on getting that laptop back."

"Provided the agent's still in Burgess." He scratched his scalp for a moment, an idea suddenly dawning on him. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if your guy's the one who killed Merida."

"The witch girl?" The elder vampire pauses a few moments to digest this notion. "But why?"

"Well, she did kill another Van Helsing operative," Jack mentioned quietly. Noting Eugene's confusion, he explained, "You know that the first time we met and I had bandages and stuff? Merida killed that operative attacked me."

At the mention of this, the elder fellow went silently very quiet.

"What is it?"

Then it hit him. Both them said it at the same time, though in slightly different way –

"It's the same person."

"It's Hans. Crap. Crap. _Crap_. Crap!"

Eugene let out a low whistle, scratching his goatee. "It ties up. It's revenge. Man, I don't know how I'm going to explain this to the mother."

"He's not dead. He was never dead, because he has some _ability_ to _not die_." In his rant, Jack had completely ignored the other vampire. "That's why her body was in my locker. It's a taunt! A mockery!" He let out a shaky breath, dragging a palm down his face. "It's a warning."

"If you're in danger, then so's my wife." Eugene's emerald eyes suddenly flashed in manner that wasn't quite friendly. "You brought this upon us."

The white-haired lad didn't disagree, because it made sense. Merida got involved in his fight with Hans, and paid for it. And now Eugene and Rapunzel didn't have a home anymore, because they came to save Bunny.

His knees suddenly felt weak and he had to rest a hand against the tree trunk. That was when he saw it – the leather-bound volume, resting on grass so innocently, as if it had always been there. He bent forward, picking it up. Turning to the first page was all the confirmation he needed.

Eugene glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the book with suspicion. "What's that?"

Jack didn't answer him. Stepping out into the wood, he yelled, "Elsa? You there?"

No reply.

"Elsa?" He tried once more. He knew the chances were small, but still, the book was here. She had come to find him. Perhaps after reading the book, she would know for sure the truth – the dark secret that he had to hide. But she had been here. She had wanted to come all the same. It was the most foolish of hope, but he still hoped that that meant that she still wanted him, too, in some way. "Elsa!"

Nothing. Maybe his discovery was too late.

"Kid," Eugene's voice wafted down to him, "we should go in. Rapunzel's probably noticed your disappearance. Also,-" he glanced down at himself "-I seriously need a bath. I've been trudging through the mud all day."

Reluctantly, the boy withdrew from the woods, still casting wistful glances that way nonetheless. He didn't know what it was he longed for first, but still…but still…

"Don't tell any of this to Rapunzel, by the way," Eugene added as they moved towards the porch, himself still hobbling courageously on. "I don't like her worried."

Jack's gaze finally withdrew from the forest. Who was he kidding? Elsa wouldn't be there anymore. "But shouldn't she know that your house has been, I don't know, razed to the ground?"

"Yeah, but not how it happened. I don't like her worried over this kind of thing." The elder vampire let out a long sigh, his lips curved downward. "It's my job to handle."

The boy cast him a bemused look as he pushed the door open. "I'm sure Rapunzel can handle stuff better than you give her credit for."

"Just do what I say, okay?" Eugene snapped with surprising ferocity. "I know my wife best."

They encountered Rapunzel shortly after their re-entry, and as expected, she began to fuss over Eugene's battered appearances. When she asked, he said, "Bad storm. Lightning struck the house. Caught fire." When asked on the leg, he said, "Gun misfired while escaping. Silver bullets. Old gun, y'know."

The boy was proud of himself for listening to these with a perfectly straight face, because they were probably the dumbest lies he had ever heard.

The doctor with the long, yellow braid fortunately was easy to convince, and she led her husband upstairs where she could better treat him. Jack followed them up, but only to head towards Bunny's room. The grumpy old geezer would want his precious book back, and maybe he would finally stop accusing Elsa of being a hunter.

On his way, it occurred to the lad that there was something off about the book. Like, there was something wrong with its…

He placed the leather-bound volume under his nose, and frowned.

…its _scent._

Opening up the book, he was flooded by a wash of thick iron. Fresh, from newly spilled blood. Not animal blood either, for the scent was too raw. Too hot. Too delectable.

And then he saw the pages. Each page, each carefully inscribed recipes, was smeared with red. He flipped to check – red, red, red, red, red. The words on the pages could barely be deciphered.

The page of Bunny's blood brownie recipe caught his eye. He had dog-eared that one for the Valentine's Day sale, and had read it at least a dozen times to memorise it. He had mastered it so that he could teach it to his two human friends, and they had a bloodless version for their peers. It was one of those little cakes that he had gifted the blonde girl of his dreams, asking her to be his - if only for a day.

Like the others, it was smeared with blood, except that the smears were legible - _'You're too late.'_

The page across it – _'Five years too late'._

The page behind – _'She's mine.'_

The page across that – _'She's always been.'_

He didn't need to take a deep breath to know who's blood it was. He knew her scent, because it was one of the many thing that he knew about her. One of the many things that attracted him to her.

One of the many things that also attracted other things – other _terrible_ things – to her.

A shudder ran down his spine as he recalled their second date, when she had told him her tragic tale.

 _The face in the dark, with bloodied fangs._

He dropped the book and sprinted out of the house.

~~~0~~~

The ride home was deathly quiet.

Perhaps it was childish to treat Kai this way. He was, after all, just trying to look after her the best way he knew how. Yet, if it wasn't as if she had never tried to explain. He just didn't get it. He had placed it down as 'nightmares' and 'PTSD', facts that he had learned after reading a dozen and one psychology books.

Yet, she had to give him credit. Studying such books was beyond the duties of an ex-butler. She knew that her 'issues' had been distinctly out of his comfort zone. He was trying, out of loyalty to his deceased employer and his family. She was grateful.

But not grateful enough to pretend.

"If this is going to work, Elsa, you need to cooperate with the psychiatrist," her guardian chided her just as the car pulled up at red light.

The roads were fairly empty, with only an occasional sedan pulling up elsewhere and the sky was dark with ominous clouds. The weather had been on quite on the gloomier side these days, a dour reflection of her mood.

"You need to talk to him if it's going to work."

She didn't reply him, choosing instead to stare out of the window. _Pit-pat_ went two drops of rain on the glass, and just as the car started again, the _pit-patter-pat-pitter_ came in a faster rhythm, before exploding into a full-frontal downpour.

"Brilliant," Kai murmured as he pressed on the pedal, letting the car sail past the green light.

With the rain smacking so loudly on the roof, a lull fell between them. Kai turned off the radio, because it was impossible to hear the music under all the noise anyway. Elsa just took it as a reprieve from the reprimand that her guardian was going to give her. She hadn't the slightest chance of defending herself. After all, how could she explain it to him? And if she couldn't explain it to someone whom she almost regarded as family, how could she explain it to some stranger in an office?

"Text your sister," Kai's tone was curt. He wasn't very happy with her, and the weather was doing nothing to make it better. The sky being this murky meant that there was nothing to illuminate their way but the headlights. At his age, night vision was not easily summoned and it was undoubtedly stressing him out. "If she's still out with her friends, I might go pick her up."

As Elsa whipped out her phone to comply, it occurred to her how disconnected she had been with Anna recently. The conversation between them had been ranging from hostile to coldly informative. It was probably her fault, of course, but how could she possibly explain to her sister what she herself barely understood? No, it was better that Anna didn't know. What she didn't know could hurt her.

Hopefully.

Just as she sent the message and lowered her phone to her lap, a chill suddenly shot up her spine. Her back went ramrod straight as she turned her head slowly towards the window.

There in the dark, _what was that?_

To Kai, she asked, "Do you see something there?"

"What?" He only cast a fleeting glance towards her, then eyes flew back to the slippery road.

A terrible sense of Deja vu washed over the girl as she saw a flickering in the rain, and for some reason, she could _feel_ him there. Him, and his gold-flecked eyes.

"Kai, we need to turn back."

Her guardian gave her a much longer look this time. "What, you want to talk to the psychiatrist now? The clinic's probably closed by now."

"No, it's-" her words were caught in her throat when she saw him. It was just a slender form of black, could have easily been a tree, but she knew it was him. She didn't know why she knew, and she didn't want to know why either. "We just need to turn around now. There's something in the woods."

"What, like a bear or something?"

"Kai." The urgency in her voice heightened. _"Please, please,_ just turn us back."

"Elsa, I can't make a U-turn here. It's too narrow. Wait till I-"

"Kai!" She grabbed his arm. She didn't mean to. In fact, she usually didn't initiate physical contact, even with gloves. Kai knew that, which was why he paid attention went she did it. "We need to turn it around. _He's here,_ and he'll-"

She pursed her lips together. She hadn't meant to let that slip.

Kai's alarm turned into a sorrowful kind of chiding. "Elsa, you know that this isn't real. This is why you need to-"

He never got to finish that sentence, because suddenly they were both suddenly flung forward and the car tipped over.

~~~0~~~

 _Himmel und Erde (Apple & Potatoes) (by Sandy)_

 _Ingredients:_

 _5 Large potatoes_

 _5 Large apples (Any kind)_

 _2 Tbsp butter_

 _0.5 cup of Hot Milk_

 _0.5 cups of uncoagulated Blood of Choice_

 _2 Tablespoons of Sugar_

 _2 Tablespoon of Butter_

 _Salt & Pepper to Taste_

 _How to Cook:_

 _and finely chop potatoes._

 _2\. Add to pot and began cooking in water till soft._

 _3\. Pour in Milk & Blood. Mash them into the potato._

 _4._ Peel apples and slice thickly. Add to pot.

5\. When apples brown and are soft, mash into the mixture.

 _6\. When mixture is smooth and creamy, add butter. Season with salt and pepper._

 _7\. Serve with fried onion, black pudding and sausages._

~~~0~~~

By the time he reached the lone house along Fjord Avenue, the downpour had increased tenfold. But he wasn't one who feared the cold.

Jack ran up to the porch, ignoring the splattering droplets overhead. He technically knew where she lived, but he had never dared visit. He was afraid that she'd invite him in, and if she did, it might open a Pandora's Box that could never be closed.

But desperate times called for desperate measures, and the boy rapped hard against the window. The lights were out. The car wasn't there. But he had to hope against hope that somehow, someone would be home.

"Hello!" he yelled against the doorframe. He tried to peer between the curtains and behind the screen, but all that greeted him was black. He glanced down to the soaked screen of his watch. No matter how the sky looked, it was hardly night yet. But there was an eeriness about the storm raging above. Something…unnatural about it.

Something dangerous.

He intended to dash back the road that he came, but as he hurried down the slippery wet gravel, he found himself drawing to a halt.

There, where he had left it several days ago, was his motorbike, buried under the fallen brambles from a nearby birch. In the madness that surrounded him recently, he had utterly forgotten to collect the vehicle. Indeed, it was a wonder that the police hadn't uncovered it.

He lifted the sodden vehicle from its muddy prison, brushing off leaves the best he could. The keys he found at the locked trunk, as he had left it. It was all too easy to hop onto the leather seat and ignite the engine. He might travel faster on foot, but a motorcycle would draw less attention if anyone should see him, as unlikely as that was in this weather.

The cruiser shot like an arrow through the night, zipping through the rain so quick that barely a drop fell on his head. With one hand, he shaded his eyes, seeking out anything that was worth his notice.

So intent was he on this mission that he had scarcely noticed the car wreck that had appeared in the middle on the road.

But Jack did eventually notice it, and the tyres screeched against the stones as the bike pulled to a halt. The sedan was overturned. The windows were cracked. The front of the car was n smashed so completely that its parts were spilled out on to the ground. As he took a step towards it, he realised he could smell blood. Human blood.

He took a step back.

The rain diluted the scent, so it wasn't so overwhelming, but he didn't know if the risk of helping the individual was going to be worth the risk that his own appetite posed. Biting his lip, the boy retreated further, his hand going for the phone buried in his back pocket. He'd call for an ambulance, then leave. He'd have done all he could.

Just as he was about to hit the emergency numbers, he froze.

There in the rubble lay a cracked phone, its shattered screen still alight for some reason. He reached out, lifting it out from the puddle that it had ungracefully descend into. There, he saw on the lock screen an image of a school timetable. When he flipped the phone around, he saw a small polaroid of two sisters, one grinning enthusiastically while the other looking prim. As she always did.

He didn't even need to think before diving down next to the inverted car, staring through the smashed window, her name on his lips.

But it wasn't Elsa. Instead, it was just a bald fellow in his early fifties. His head was lolled back loosely, but he was still breathing, if those uneasy wheezes were anything to go by. His head was bruised, and bloodied too. Jack immediately drew back and slammed a hand over his mouth. Good thing he had fed before going on this crazy mission.

Slinking back into the safety of the downpour, Jack noticed that the damaged phone in his hand had blacked out, perhaps due to the damp, or maybe the device was really beyond repair. He hadn't the heart to cast it away though, since it was hers, ruined or not.

As he dialled for 911, he went to check the other end of the car. Maybe what it would give him some clue as to what happened to her.

" _Medical Emergency, 231,_ " a calm voice on the other end answered. _"What are you reporting?"_

He surveyed the wreckage with distaste as he circled. "Erm, hi, there's been a car accident on the road towards Fjord Avenue. A gentleman is trapped in it, and he's injured and-" he broke off.

" _Sorry, can you confirm the location again?"_

Jack didn't respond, because his attentions had been swallowed completely by the scene before him

" _Sir, are you there?"_

The car door had been ripped from its original position, and had been roughly crunched up in a ball, like it was nothing more than paper. The chair that had been next to driver one was sitting out on the road, tipped over. The seatbelt had been ripped out, not unbuckled. There was a trail of shrapnel that led into the forest.

" _Sir?"_

Snapping back to awareness, he finally managed to get out, "Err, yep. Um, between the Drawer Junction and Fjord Avenue. That road down there." He began trekking into the woods, ignoring how the mud squelched beneath his feet, ignoring how the bits of leaves and wood clung to his wet skin when he passed the trees.

" _If you tell me what happened, that would be great."_

He stared out into the endless rows of trees, into the black of night. There's no trace of her, and in the damp, there's no chance that he'll catch her scent, even if he were the finest of werewolves.

His voice was hoarse as he admitted, "I don't know."

~~~0~~~

She awoken with a startled gasp.

She was utterly soaked to skin, and the cold marble against her back was doing no favour to keep her body heat in. She shivered as she sat herself upright, clutching her arms tightly around her.

"I forget how fragile humans are. So susceptible to the forces of nature," a cool voice came from behind her.

Elsa whipped about, her wet braid flying back as she did. He was there, the mysterious gentleman, the murderer of her parents, the plague of her nightmares.

 _Pitch Black._

She leapt to her feet, intending to flee, but her knees buckled instead. She was saved from an undignified collapse by his strong grip, but the biting of his claw-like fingers into her flesh made her wish he had let her go.

"Oh, but my dear Elsa,-" his bright eyes seemed to glow despite the shadowy surroundings. "But haven't I told you before? I'll never let you go."

A queasy sensation rose from the pit of her stomach and she drew away. He let her, but the smug glint in his gaze indicated that her small defiance was nothing he couldn't afford.

She pushed her braid behind her, pulling her sodden gloves up her skin. Not daring to look him in the eyes, the girl asked quietly, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Precisely for that," he told her in a rather conversational manner. "You've been alone too long. As have I. There's no reason why we can't benefit from each other's company."

In the non-existent lighting, she didn't know how she could see, but she could. Well, not perfectly, but enough to tell that he was once again in his dark trench coat, along with his flat-topped hat. It struck her more than ever that his garments were distinctly of a different time, and perhaps a different universe all together.

Yet, she would not submit to curiosity, would not ask him from his tragic tale or his victorious narratives. She only asked through gritted teeth, "You're the one who forced me to be alone. Everything, from the death of my parents, to the marks on my hand, to everyone thinking that I'm crazy-"

"I was merely displaying to you the truth of mortal living," he answered indifferently, even a little patronising. "You needed your eyes to be opened before you could flourish into the fullness of a woman." His bony hands suddenly shoot forward, grabbing her chin and forcing her to face him. His angular features had never seemed so hard, so cruel. His grin was enough to trigger shudder. "And you have. So bold, so fiery."

She ripped herself away from him, shooting a deathly glare but that only seemed to amuse him more. From the very air itself, he seemed to have pluck out a flowing cloak, again one that seemed out from the medieval times. Without asking for permission, he draped it over her shoulders. She watched him with great wariness, face hard even though her freezing form appreciated the warmth of the garment.

He proffered an arm towards her. "Would you walk me?" It wasn't really a question.

Gulping down her fear, she hooked a trembling arm in his, letting him lead her deeper into the derelict abyss.

The surroundings were unfamiliar to her, and she doubted that they were anywhere near Burgess. The architecture was ancient, consisting vaulted ceilings and stone pillars, carved reliefs and chiselled sculptures. Much of it was already falling apart, leaving large gaps in the walls and stacks of debris in along the cobbled path. The only light came from the torches that lined the rubble-strewn corridor. Even then, the flickering yellow granted little sight, permeating a greater sense of foreboding in this place.

"Where are we?" she finally managed to croak out. Her throat was dry from the terror that she had hoped to suppress. She hoped that he couldn't smell fear.

"A shrine of sorts," was his placid answer. "To a religion even older than your first of ancestors." The skeleton of his hand flicked vaguely towards the shattered idol by his feet.

Whilst the body was already smashed to dust, the head was intact. The gnarled features of the monsterscowled at her, bearing its fanged jaws towards her. Behind it was an elaborated mural, colours faded but still noticeable. There was the fanged creature, with its gnarled face attached to a human body. It had a foot over a fallen man, whose neck had been cut open and blood was pooled around him.

Subconsciously, she found herself pressing against the vile companion. It was only after she heard his raspy chuckle that Elsa noticed her own actions, and distanced herself once again.

"You needn't fear," her ghoulish kidnapper assured her. "There's very little in this world that can hope to defeat me."

"I'm sure," was the girl's sour reply. Now that her gait has steadied, Elsa detached her hands from him, wrapping them around her elbows instead. "What do you want from me?"

He didn't look at her when he delivered his reply. "You already know."

"I can assure you most certainly that I don't.

A mirthless chuckle departed hi tips, bloodless lips. "Think harder."

She did, and the corners of her lip took a downward turn. "I'm not marrying you."

"Oh?"

"On top of being a weird, creepy-" she made a vague gesture at him "- _whatever_ , you killed my parents. On what _dimension_ did you think I'd want to marry you?"

The smile that he gave her was indulgent, as if she were but a fussing child. "You know, I don't need your permission." He cast a mocking smirk. "You honestly think I couldn't have forced you be my bride on that very night we met?"

An unwanted tremor shot up her spine as her imagination seeped into memory. In her mind's eye, she saw her thirteen-year-old self, traumatised and terrified. The nails were biting so thoroughly in her skin that it was a wonder that she hadn't bled from it.

"You're fortunate that I'm looking for a queen, not a bride," he continued on, deliberately not noting the pallor of her expression. "I was willing to wait if that meant that your mind and body would grow in greater strength - only then would I claim you."

She would have cursed at him with all the curses that she knew but had never uttered, had hit him with a strength that she had possessed but never used. But she couldn't move a muscle against him. There was a throbbing sensation on along her neck and wrist, and somehow that was enough to keep her walking silently beside him.

He seemed to have detected her desire for resistance, for he then took up her left arm. Without asking, he pulled against the drenched glove covering it, revealing her scar-ridden flesh. He turned it slowly around, his cold fingers running against the old cuts that she had made once, and then to the puncture marks near her pulse.

"It's a simple trick, really," he told her in a wry fashion. "Just a bit of your blood, and I would know your every step, your every word, your every breath. I had waited so long to find a worthy she, and I would not lose her so easily." He planted a kiss on the scar, and there was no way she could suppress the sickened feeling whirling within her. "That way, I would know when she was ready to claimed once more."

"And when's that?" Elsa found herself asking, not entirely of her own volition.

He smirked mysteriously as he rubbed the side of his thumb against her lip. At that moment, her memories had reeled to more recent times, in the shadows of a movie theatre where she had her first kiss.

She gasped.

"I should perhaps send Jack Frost a gift." His amusement only grew by her horrified expression. "He did, after all, prepare you for me."

Elsa wanted to ask him what he meant by that, or how he knew Jack. But her tongue could not be found when he forcibly hooked her arm with his, pulling her down the crumbling corridor once more.

The dark walkway had widened up, leading to a large circular vault. In its centre was an elevated platform, with steps circling it. He led her up towards it, to the circular fountain that stood there. Its sides were overflowing, so streams of water came pouring down the steps like a gentle blanket.

"You don't understand me, of course. Mortals' knowledge of my kind is severely in want," he told her. "But even you must realise that I hold great power, nothing like man has ever seen. My will stirs in the very core of the universe, and it listens to me."

Elsa barely noticed how soaked her shoes are, for her mind was wrestling with a far greater issues. She tried to move her arms, kick up her legs, anything, but she couldn't. Her body just calmly continued to link arms with this dangerous, crazy creature, as if this were a leisurely stroll in the park.

"You don't realise it, but this is your grand purpose. The meaning of your existence. This power I have, I'm offering to share it with you"

They stopped when they reached the foot of the fountain, and he angled her head towards the dome ceiling. There above lay elaborated inscribed shapes, spaced apart. Her eyes widened when she realised that an ancient map of the entire world. There in its centre was the fanged head against, sneering down at her. Its mouth seemed to be wet, and indeed it was dripping into the fountain.

"You told me that you want to change the world. As a mere mortal girl, you never will. But as the Queen of the _Nosferatu_ ,-" she felt his breath against her ear "-there'll be nothing you wouldn't be able to accomplish."

"I won't be able to bring my parents back." She suddenly felt her voice return to her, and boy, it was good to note his startled expression. She injected a measure of taunt when she added viciously, "I don't think even _you_ can do that."

Though thrown off momentarily, her dark captor quickly regain his composure. He pulled her head back down so that she had to face his grey-toned skin. "Perhaps I am no good reviving the dead," he admitted. "But there are those of the living that I can save. Those precious to you."

"Kai?" Her thoughts go back to her guardian, who had been driving the car. Now with her mind clearer, she knew that if the car had been flipped, he must have badly injured.

The ruthless monster that was her host barked a sharp laugh. "Your guardian is likely to have survived the ordeal. Not in the best shape, perhaps, but nothing that your mortal medicines cannot fix. No." He shook his head as a sinister grin appeared on his lips. "Perhaps you should examine what is right under your nose."

Puzzled by this statement, she glanced incidentally down, and saw what he meant. There, lying completely submerged in the fountain basin was her unmoving sister.

"Anna!" Her hand reached out towards the prone form, only be held back by his iron grip. She writhed against his hold, but for all the slenderness of his form, it was like fighting a brick wall.

"You move her from the water and she will surely die."

Confused and afraid, the blonde girl ripped her arms from him. Clutching the cloak around her, she demanded, "What did you do?"

"Stop her from dying, apparently." He held out a plastic cup towards her, one of those transparent coffee kinds. Where he had kept it, she didn't know. "Poisoned, and very well. There's almost no trace of it. You're lucky I like those woods."

Elsa stared down at the half-empty cup, which 'ANNA' scrawled evenly on the side. Double-choc mocha. That sounded like her sister, alright.

"Am I'm supposed to believe that you have nothing to do with?" she inquired with a raised brow.

He snorted. "Please. Poison ruins the blood."

The girl bit her lip as her gaze shifted to the unmoving form beneath the waters, which themselves must have some kind of – _dare she say it?_ – magic, if they're keeping Anna alive. Slowly, Elsa lowered her hand into the basin, a unusual heat meeting her skin when the liquid enveloped her. She wrapped the hand around her sister's limp one, and squeezes it. Anna didn't respond. Her expression was one of peaceful slumber. There was no sign of suffering, but that didn't mean that she wasn't dying on the inside.

"Is there an antidote, or some kind of treatment?" Elsa's voice was soft.

"Not exactly. These kind of poisons are too old to be cured by modern medicine" His cunning expression was reflected off the surface of the basin. "But…"

"But what?"

"It is possible that she be cured by, perhaps, the blood of the _Nosferatu_ , especially those of royal lineage."

She blinked.

"Of which I am one," he added rather plaintively, in case the hint wasn't obvious enough.

"I got that." The girl frowned at him. "But that would make her vampire, wouldn't it?"

"Not if I don't drink her blood."

Elsa's forehead creased. "Well, then why would you help her? There's nothing in it for you."

"Oh, I can assure you that I'm no altruist." His chuckle was dark. "But perhaps I could be persuaded."

The meaning of his statement bore so heavily down on her that she staggered back, almost tripping on the steps.

"I leave the choice to you, of course," her dark companion said, as if his offer was truly generous. "But you must ask yourself, really – how prepared are you to watch your sister die?"

~~~0~~~

About ten minutes after he had called, the ambulance was seen driving to the site. He then ascended his motorbike and took off into the woods. If they saw him there, they'd hold him back for questioning and he had other urgent matters to attend to.

So Jack dove into the woods, braving the rain, the forestry and the dark. Well, the dark wasn't such an issue, since his night vision was pretty solid, but just because you could see into the dark didn't mean that you didn't fear it.

He wasn't sure what he was looking for – at least, until he found a scrap of metal on one of the branches. Veering the bike that way, his eyes searched for any other sights on the ground – footprints, broken shrubbery, disturbed leaves. He scanned the craggy stones on the uneven floor. He peered behind the curtains of leaves. He went in circles just to check again and again, but there were no more clues to be found.

Drawing his bike to halt under a swaying oak, Jack bit his lips even as the rain continue to soak him to the skin. He pushed back the damp white locks gazing frustratedly around for the sign of a shifting shadow, or a mournful wailing, or anything.

But all he had was rain, trees, and more rain.

' _WOOT! WOOT!'_

The sound startled him so much that he was knocked back from the bike. As the vehicle too collapsed to the ground quite ungracefully, Jack was greeted by the disapproving eyes of an owl, perched on one of the branches above. The bird didn't flinch under the returning stare from the lanky intruder, merely spreading its wings open and zooming away, vanishing into the dark. Groaning as he pushed himself back to feet, it occurred to the boy that he had been looking _around_ him for clues, but he hadn't looked _up_.

His head tipped backwards.

The trail of destruction was fairly obvious. An entire line of broken branches hung above him, dripping wet and looking very sorry indeed. With this new lead, he abandoned the bike, since navigating it whilst staring up would be quite ridiculous. He did walk into a couple of trees, but he shook it off as he hastily resumed his trek, glancing up every so often.

The trail of broken branches came to an abrupt close when his feet became damp. Glancing down, he realised that he was in fact ankle-deep in some kind of pond.

Well, not pond, more like… _lake_.

Hastily, Jack leapt back to shore, his breaths short and his body trembling. He gulped as he peered at the rippled surface of the water. His throat tightened at the memory of the watery grave that had once been his.

True, the water could not hurt his body anymore, but his mind was a different story.

He decided to circle the lake instead, searching for any other clues that could have indicated the path that his target had gone. But there were no more broken tree branches, high or low, anywhere around. No fprints indicated travel on foot. It was a dead end.

The sky at last decided to pity him and the rain let up. His sodden shoes he had stripped and began twisting in his hands, letting it drip on the soil below him as he ransacked his brain.

He found his gaze drifting to the waters once more, which had stilled considerably now that it wasn't being persistently attacked from on high. The moon, full and yellow, could vaguely recognised on its surface.

Suddenly, his gaze flit from the broken branches, then to the moon, then back down to the lake. He couldn't help but feel that there was something strange about the water.

He took a step forward and -

\- was abruptly knocked off his feet. Before Jack could every yelp, he felt sharp incisors sink into his neck.

The speed by which he was rendered unconscious was pretty embarrassing.

~~~0~~~

 _Shuba (by North)_

 _What You Need:_

 _0.25 cup of Herring Fillet in oil_

 _2 large washed Beetroots_

 _2 large washed Potatoes_

 _3 large washed Carrots_

 _3 large hard-boiled eggs,_

 _0.75 cups of chicken blood_

 _0.25 cups of mayonnaise_

 _4 diced green scallions_

 _2 tablespoons hot mustard_

 _3 teaspoons salt_

 _Instructions:_

 _1) Heat beetroots in pot of salted water. Remove when tender._

 _2) Heat Potatoes and Carrots in separate pot of salted water. Remove when tender_

 _3) Let vegetable cool. Meanwhile, peel boiled eggs and chop finely._

 _4) Grate potatoes, carrots and beets into separate containers._

 _5) Dice herring in separate bowl._

 _6) Mix blood, mayonnaise and mustard in another bowl._

 _7) Add 1/3 of spread Add 1/3 cup of spread to grated beets and 1 teaspoon salt._

 _8) Add 2 teaspoons salt to spotatoes, carrots and eggs._

 _9) Salad is assembled in a loaf pan, lined with baking paper. Beet are first, followed by blood mix, then carrots, eggs and, blood mix, scallions, potatoes, rest of spread, then herring._

 _10) Refrigerate for 30 minutes._

 _11) Invert on serving plate and serve._

~~~0~~~

When Anna awoke, she felt incredibly well-rested.

She sat herself up slowly, blinking away the remaining drowsiness and found her body astonishing invigorated. The morning light pouring through the curtains indicated that she was probably late for class. Yet, somehow this wasn't her primary concern.

One of her hands went up to her throat as she scrambled for her memories, where her head was swimming and her chest was heaving, and there in the background, his indifference face just watched it all…

The door of the bedroom creaked open and she jumped. It was Elsa. Her braid had been tied back neatly and she was dressed in a loose, white dress that seemed a bit too formal for home. How long had she been up?

"I already called the school," her elder sister said with an unreadable expression, kicking the door shut with the back of her heel. "You're apparently having food poisoning."

"I am?" Anna blinked. She did recall feeling really queasy, and for some reason, also _betrayed?_

"We'll see." Elsa sat down on the bed next to her, her two gloved hands holding out a tray. "Breakfast?"

Oatmeal was probably on the bottom of Anna's dream breakfast list, but for some reason, she finished the bowl without any hesitation. Perhaps it was because it had been ages since her sister had done anything like that for her, and she wanted her to feel appreciated. Or maybe she just felt really, really hungry.

After when she had set the bowl down on the nearby study table, she realised that Elsa had been staring at her. Quite intently, in fact.

"Is something wrong?" the brunette girl asked.

Elsa cleared her throat, eyes flitting away. "Kai's in hospital. Car accident." On seeing her alarmed expression - "The doctor says he'll make it through, but he's still unconscious."

"Oh." Anna sunk back into the wall framing her bed. Kai had been such a permanent fixture in their lives that she had never imagined that anything could happen to him. But then again, she had once thought that of their parents.

"I was thinking of visiting him. Just be there for a while, you know." That explained the clothes, though the formality did seem a tad unnecessary for a comatose person. "You wanna come?"

"Yeah, of course." The girl hastily slipped on her shoes, before darting towards the closet. She browsed quickly through her various dresses. It's a welcome distraction to the distressing news, and the strange edginess that she felt.

The journey to the hospital had a quiet, long one due to the distance. Moreover, the shuttle that they had waited for only came every hour. Anna used all the time to contemplate what exactly occurred between the moment she had ended school the day before and the time she had woken up today.

There were certain memories – terrifying memories – that bothered her immensely. She had been pretty sure that she had been choking on something. Han had been there, his lovely red locks and his dreamy emerald eyes, but his expression had been cold. So frostily cold, and it had shocked her, because he was one of the warmest people she knew. She also knew that she had been in the forest, and also some place wet, but … if that was all true, then how did she wake up in her bed?

"Is something wrong?" Elsa asked her, a burst of concern that was pretty unusual. "Are you feeling alright?"

She considered sharing this - _dream? memory?_ – with her sister, but considering that how ridiculous it all sounded, and the pinched expression on Elsa's face, she decided not to add this burden to those on her sister's shoulders.

Anna shook her head.

The relief that washed on her sister's face was remarkably obvious, which the younger Arendelle girl couldn't help but think was a little weird.

After they reached the hospital, she filed these thoughts away and focused on her warded guardian. Poor Kai was in bad shape, and no matter how many times the doctors assured them that he was stable, Anna couldn't help but feel rather worried. When would he be back with them? Would he be the same? How did this accident happen?

Her sister was however the pinnacle of self-control, taking the doctor's explanation with a firm nod and answering question with the steady voice. For all the times she complained of her rigidity, it was nice to have a mast in storms like these.

As they were picking at their meagre meals down in the hospital canteen, Elsa suddenly said, "You wanna go hang out somewhere else?"

Anna was admittedly caught off guard by this suggestion. "What?"

"Kai's going to heal, whether we're here or not. Since we're both technically sick, we're not going to school," her sister elucidated. "So, you wanna hang out anywhere?"

It took her about five minutes to figure out that Elsa was perfectly serious. It only took her a minute to set the itinerary, because when it came to hanging out, Anna always had an itinerary.

The first place they did was travel down to her favourite diner for a proper meal. Elsa paid for the taxi, which was an usually extravagant gesture, but her reasoning was that they wanted to reach the place before they closed for lunch. Even then, the ride was quite a while, but as they say, nothing whets an appetite as well as hunger.

After they entered Oaken's Diner, it was impossible not to note the hint of wariness in her elder sister's eyes. After all, this was a very same place where she may have been – cough- tricked into a date with Jack F. Guardian. But hey, it turned out well. For a while. Before all the crazy happened and stuff.

Anna ordered them both large chocolate milkshakes, and a 10-inch pizza to share, because both of them loved chocolate and, well, she loved pizza. Being a growing girl with a hearty appetite, she had no issue wolfing down most while Elsa nibbled on neat little pieces. Few words were exchanged, but there was comfort in the silence too, a feeling that the younger girl admittedly was unfamiliar with.

The peaceful meal was briefly interrupted however when Elsa excused herself to the bathroom. When she returned, her face was pale and she refused to touch her milkshake again. Not being one to waste a good drink, Anna happily downed the rest.

The next place they went was the park. It wasn't a very big place, but in the afternoon, it was generally empty. They went down to see the lake and Anna may or may not have petted a couple of duckling by the shore side, after which Elsa insisted she washed her hands. They went to look at the flowers that were currently in bloom, and read the explanation boards for those that weren't. Conversation was sparse, but there wasn't really a need for it. Both of them just allowed themselves to enjoy the sounds of nature and the light of the Sun – well, at least until Elsa complained that the heat was getting unbearable.

They decided to go the local bookstore afterwards, as way of appeasing Elsa's sensibilities. Anna of course browsed through the latest romance novels, then flitted through the books that were romance novels disguised as teen dystopia. Her sister taste was more towards the historical and non-fiction, but for some reason, she seemed to have spent quite a bit of time under the mythology section. When asked, Elsa just shrugged.

The last place they went was the art gallery. It was getting a bit late, and by right, the Gallery would be closed. Except that it was a Friday, and on Fridays, the Museum extended its closing time till eight.

Elsa hadn't seemed very keen to go, which was odd, because Anna figured she would be more into the artsy stuff that her, and it was a very good collection. A little pleading was all it took, and soon they were outside the old colonial building. Anna spent most of time flitting through each of the pictures, making up stories for all of them and giggling to herself every now and then. Her sister chose to linger in the galleries of the permanent collection, and for some reason she kept staring at one rather horrid-looking one. It was like the artist had really bad hangover and just decided to puke on the canvas. Ghastly stuff.

Eventually, closing time did come, and both of them made their way home. Well, this time Anna got them an Uber, and Elsa promised to compensate her for the expense. When they arrived home, they were ravenous since they did forget to have dinner. So Elsa decided to cook them some ramen with cheese, which was a unhealthy, quick meal that Anna took too much delight from. Only after finishing most of it, however, did she notice that the portion that Elsa had granted herself was significantly smaller than her own.

"I'm not hungry," was all the blonde gave as an explanation.

After washing-up, Anna was heading up the stairs when she noticed that Elsa wasn't following. Instead, she was fixated on the various photographs that were hung along the corridor. Some were of themselves when they were little. Others were those with their parents. There were a couple more recent ones of themselves with Kai, on holidays, graduations and so forth.

Elsa's gaze shifted briefly to her, then back to pictures. "I'll be down here for a while. Don't wait up for me."

Letting out a yawn – man, food coma was hitting fast – Anna nodded. "Alright, but don't forget to switch off the lights later."

"I'm not the one who usually needs to be told." It might be a trick of the light, but there's a slight upward curve on the corner of Elsa's lip.

Well, Anna decided to take it as a joke that it ought to be and chuckled. "Gosh, you're such a prig sometimes."

After arriving on the second floor, Anna headed straight for her room. She set out her workbook and notes, but within half-an-hour she's already dozing off at the desk. Giving up, she decided that a tactical retreat might be order.

"Hey," she yelled down the stairs while rubbing her eyes. "I'm going to go to bed first, okay? Don't make too much noise when you come in?"

There's no answer, but that's pretty normal for Elsa. So the younger girl just ambled back to the bedroom, undid her braids and settled down on the bed. Barely had her head touched the pillow did snores rumbled from her throat.

When she awakened the next morning, a flutter of panic beat against her ribs. She opened her eyes, then remembered it was a Saturday. No school.

So she should probably go back to sleep.

Just as she was about to drift back into slumberland, she noted the blurred form of sister on the bed across hers. Elsa's body had been curled in a tight fetal position, back facing out. Her hair was still twisted in braid, and was lying rather awkwardly off the pillow. The blankets had been wrapped tightly around her, almost completely covering her head.

Rubbing her eyes, Anna rose to her feet. She forced her drowsy self to walk to the other end of the room, calling softly, "Elsa?"

As she got nearer, however, she realised that her sister's eyes were wide open.

"Elsa?"

Her sister didn't respond, just staring unblinkingly into the white void of the wall.

She reached a hand forward to the forehead covered in white-gold strand, and couldn't help but notice the flinch her sister made. The back of her fingers were met with a chill. "Elsa, you're cold."

"It's nothing." The words sounded hollow. Broken.

"You should see a doctor."

" _It is nothing."_

The viciousness pumped into those words took the younger girl aback, and indeed, she withdrew herself from her sister. Elsa merely pulled the covers tighter around her.

Clearing her throat, Anna then timidly suggested, "You want me to make you something? Soup? Oatmeal?"

"No," was the quiet answer, followed by sigh.

"Are you sure?"

"Just go away, Anna."

Biting back her hurt, the girl settled back down on her mattress, laying her head back down. She didn't fall back asleep immediately, for she couldn't help staring into at Elsa, if only into her duvet-covered back. All the staring in the world however couldn't fill the blanks in her mind.

She did eventually drift into sleep, however, for when she opened her eyes once more, her sister's bed was already empty. The covers were gone too, and her phone. When she descended the steps, all she could hear was the laundry machine going off in the backroom, but there was no sign of Elsa anywhere.

Anna scrunched her face up in worry, and wondered where that odd rust smell was coming from.

~~~0~~~

How sweetly adorn was the virgin bride, clothed in nothing but white – a symbol of her purity. How elegantly draped was her veil upon her fair head, just shielding the fear in her eyes. The tears upon her cheeks glistened like pearls in the moonlight. How pretty were the slender palms pressed into the palms of her intended, and even the voice that trembled still sounded sweet as it recited,

" _Flesh of thy flesh, and blood of thy blood."_

How charming was the regal groom, clothed in nothing but black – a symbol of his evil. How refined was the hat set upon his head, just shielding the lust in his eyes. The dark grin he flashed would be enough to snap the bones of bravest men. How cruel were his talon-sharp fingers as they curved the young head towards him, digging into themselves chin, as he spoke,

" _Flesh of my flesh, and blood of my blood."_

As he spoke the words, his fingers tore open a wound in his neck, just under his jaw.

The taste of hot blood was new upon her tongue, but there was no time to contemplate its texture and flavours when it flows too quickly down her throat. She choked when the smell first hit her, nausea slamming hard against her stomach. But his grip would not let her go and if she didn't swallow, she'd suffocate. So she drank the thick, viscous liquid. Her mouth felt like it was burning, and soon, her body did too. Her head felt both heavy and light. She felt if she did not drink, she would die.

Eventually, his grip on her loosened, and he drew her back. She had to resist the urge to lick her lips, where the crimson liquid still dribbled down. He rubbed it away with uncharacteristic gentleness, admiring how his own blood stained her mouth. But that was a mere second before his head launched forward and his fangs sank into her neck.

She found herself frozen in the moment, unable to resist as he feasted. Her body folded into him, welcoming him. Even her mind bore no rebellion, despite the screams at the back of her head crying _NONONONONONONONONO!_

Her limbs felt weak and her heart faint. It was only him that kept her on her feet now, and even then, just barely. Her eyelids were fluttering shut and the tears that leaked from them were all that reminded her of the bitter turn her life had taken. And somewhere, in the furthest recesses of her consciousness was suburban house with the 2.5 kids and a certain white-haired figure…

But that too was ripped from her as he tore himself from her neck, his fangs dripping red and his chin murderously smeared. No permission was asked he greedily pressed his bloodied mouth against her own, and indeed it wasn't as if she wouldn't let him anymore. From her lips now, he drew her innocence, her will and her freedom, and in doing so, doomed her soul forever.

The ring was slipped upon her hand of her scarred wrist as the stars and shadows observed, binding them in unholy matrimony, for all eternity.

~~~0~~~

 **And that's the end, folks! That's it! Goodbye.**

 **It was great having you all read this, and I want to thank all my loyal readers. I'm sorry that I haven't been the most consistent author, and for dragging you along the strings by pretending this was gonna be a happy Teen Vampire story, but it was never gonna be. I watched too many Hitchcock films. I'm tired of writing this, so Deux Ex Machina solves everything. Okay, I haven't solved everything, even with Deux Ex Machina, because I'm too lazy, but really guys, I have so many stories to write and life to live, so clearly I'm gonna cut some things down.**

 **So, love you all! Bye!**

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 **KIDDING!**

 **I mean, I don't really love you guys at all. Please. I'm a self-centred, selfish jerk.**

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 **HAPPY MARCH FOOL'S!**

 **Why March Fools'? Because by 1 April I'll too busy to write anything, so I decided to mess with people earlier than usual. If you haven't realised, I have a tradition of writing an April's Fool Chappie somewhere… but you know…laziness prevails.**

 **Though honestly, I'm sure a couple of you have deleted this from your Favorites list already. Oopsies.** ***Wince***

 **Okay, so if you haven't got it: No, this story is not finished. No, this story is not abandoned in the slightest (I like Gothic horror too much). Yes, there is a chance for a happy ending (but don't count on it. When it comes to the Swan Lake ballet, there are two parties – those who like it when Odette and Prince live happily ever after, or those who like it when Odette dies of heartbreak and the Prince lives with heartbreak. I belong to the latter party.)**

 **But basically, all this longwindedness is to tell you I won't be replying reviews anymore, due to my really busy schedule. It's something that I really enjoy, honestly, and I'm said to let it go, but I keep forgetting nowadays and most of you end up receiving months later when you forgot what you reviewed, so this makes the most sense. Then again, let it be known that I really like reading reviews, so if you wanna leave some, know that it's cherished and appreciated. An author always likes to know if someone likes their work.**

 **Ciao for now!**


	16. Chapter 16

**You might notice the lack of recipes in this chapter. It's intentional, for if I could this chapter a title, it would be 'The Vampire, the Witch and the School Locker.'**

~~~0~~~

Seventy-feet worth of hair was a troublesome thing to brush, yet somehow Rapunzel managed to do just that every single morning.

It was a routine of sorts, after brushing her teeth, scrubbing her face and humming a new tune. Sometimes playing the guitar would proceed it. Occasionally there would be chores after, or maybe baking. Or make candles. Or sketch. Or sew a dress. Any of those delightful things that a person could do before starting their day.

Usually, it did not start with her asking her husband what he was doing climbing out of the window - this early in the morning _too!_

"Shh!" he was quick to respond, finger flying to his lips. After a baited breath of silence, he jabbed his thumb towards the wall and hissed, "They'll hear you."

'They' referred to the Guardians, the gracious family that had allowed them to stay in their very comfortable, very large mansion after their own home at been burned down in a lightning accident. They were a real nice sort of people, if only a little odd. But that's okay, because she was sort of odd herself. Eugene was too, though he'd die before admitting it. At least, he'd try to die, but he was already sort of dead, so he couldn't really.

Rolling her eyes as she approached the window sill, watching him shifting his legs over the ledge. "Why can't you just use stairs?"

"Because," he explained in a very matter-of-fact manner, "if I use the stairs, I might run into one of them. And if I do, I'd have to talk to that person, and I don't want to." With one hand still grasping the sill and feet pressed against the wall, Eugene peered down below him. "Could I borrow your hair?"

Rapunzel peered down at the golden stands pooled at her feet. Sighing, she scooped up a handful of it and held it out to him. "This is only because I love you."

"Well, I love you too." He pecked her on the lips.

Before she knew it, he was gone and all she could feel was the pressure against her scalp, which she eased by twisting the locks in her grip. She watched he snuck out to the car, gaze flitting left and right before disappearing into the forest. Somehow, just the feeling of her hair draped outside combined with gazing at someone from a window stirred up emotions that she quickly buried.

After reeling her hair back up, Rapunzel got back to brushing her hair again. Really, Eugene's tendencies towards drama were a bit much sometimes. She knew that he avoided interacting with other vampires like the plaque, but that's because most other vampires lacked the good qualities that the Guardians possessed. Of course, Eugene didn't really believe that anyone really had 'good' in them. Some things never changed.

Once she had the golden strands all braided up, Rapunzel emerged from the room that the Guardians had permitted her, and now Eugene too, to stay in. She quite liked its location, because it allowed her to stroll past the numerous lovely art pieces that were displayed on the way to the kitchen. By now, she was familiar with the calligraphed poems, the rusted _kris_ , the china milkmaid and also the poster with dancing frogs in suits and top hats.

Frogs made her think of chameleons though, and thinking of chameleons made her sad, so she distracted herself by thinking of what the Guardians might be cooking up this time. They took turns in preparations, and somehow found the time to make some for her too, blood-free. She was grateful for the thoughtfulness, and surprised at how excellent the food really was. She wondered if they might let her cook for them one day, though it probably wouldn't be of the same level.

But there was no one in the kitchen when she arrived, and certainly none at the breakfast table. There were however some pancakes sitting there, with a scribbled note beside it.

 _Dr. Fitzherbert,_

 _Enjoy this breakfast and feel free to explore the mansion as much as you like. We will be out for quite some time thanks to some – ahem – stupid white-haired punk._

 _Regards,_

 _The Guardians_

Rapunzel lay the note down and glanced at the pancakes. She wondered what had happened to Jack, but she could multitask, so she decided to eat while wondering.

Once breakfast was cleared and dishes were done, Rapunzel wasn't quite sure what to do. She had taken leave to come care for Bunny, and after the house burned down, she had found another doctor to take her slots while she dealt with the unexpected homelessness. The issue wasn't however presently being dealt with though, since Eugene hadn't been very responsive to her suggestions on a new place to stay. She had some news clipping from yesterday, and got some ideas from Craiglist. The cottage near the South lake was open for rent and she quite liked the pictures of it.

Ah well, Eugene was busy with his current cases. Maybe once that was over, they could sit down and really talk it through. For now, perhaps she should do as the Guardians suggested and go explore the Mansion a little more. It was so huge that surely there was more that she could find.

Indeed there was. She hadn't had the time to explore the halls around the drawing room. There was a collection of illustrated fans hung from the walls, and as a series of lacquered furniture. She admired the craftsmanship as much as the design and couldn't help but run her fingers over them. Over all her years of living, she never really considered wood-craft as a hobby. Perhaps she could try to learn.

As she neared the drawing room, she paused at one of the lacquered cupboards that had a lock over its doors. It was a real old-fashion one, thin and fragile-looking, with a small little slot by the side. Fascinated, she paused examine it and wondered if it would be picked open, just like those old locks that Flynn had thought her to pick eons ago.

Rapunzel removed a pin from her hair – one of a dozen, so it was no threat to her braids – and stuck it in through the opening. A little jiggling was all it took and the lock jumped free. Pleased that her little mischief had succeeded, she prepared to slip the lock back on when she noticed there was something inside the cupboard.

By right, she shouldn't be poking her nose in places like this in a house that wasn't hers, but something seemed to draw her towards the cardboard box. When she pulled the doors back further, she could see it in Eugene's messy scrawl _'Eloise'._

Stunned, Rapunzel drew the box out, staring down at its contents with a mixture of confusion and sadness. For some reason, she had the urge to hold it close to her chest, as if it to protect from an lurking evil that she couldn't name.

~~~0~~~

Hiccup Haddock the Third actually liked high school.

Maybe it was something to do with the fact that he hadn't had any form of formal education till the second half of his life. But genuinely, he liked math and psychics, and he had mastered the art of avoiding jerks and bullies long, long ago. So on the whole, he'd rate high school at about eight out of ten stars, with an extra half-star on carpentry days.

Naturally, when he had to miss it, he felt mightily annoyed.

Rolling his head back whilst waiting for the elevator to descend, he wondered ruefully why the gods had granted him such an inconvenient gift as that of befriending wild, dangerous creatures. Sure, the friendship that he had struck up with dragons had, in a way, ensured the mutual survival of both their species in a world of deteriorating environmental conditions and increasing industrialisation.

Nonetheless, it did mean that he had to deal with a great deal of diplomatic nonsense.

"Hiccup," he was greeted as he drew the elevator door open. The device was a relic from the 19th Century when the mine was still operational. When his clan had migrated here, their strong arms and keen hands had made short work of the tunnels and passages, expanding it out into a underground town. Some old tracks and lamps stayed behind, only being refurbished every now and then, but no one here really felt a need to keep up with the times more than necessary.

He nodded at the fellow clansman who had greeted him, calling his name in turn. As he went down along the winding path through the town, he was greeted at least five more times, and only with great skill avoided having to converse with Bucket about the hundred different headaches he had today. There were many advantages to being the son of the Chief and 'sort-of-saviour' of the clan, but morning greetings was not one of them.

He finally found himself outside the town prison, where he was slightly alarmed to find that no one outside. Muscles tensing, he reached for the fire-blade that he had by his side as he entered the building.

The town prison wasn't very big, because most prisoners here wouldn't have been kept alive long enough for it to matter (…sometimes) and also space was a bit of a problem down here. So there were only two prisons, one lined with silver, and one lined with rowan wood. 'Rowan' being another name for 'mountain-ash'.

The silver one was unoccupied at present, and the rowan wood one had three times more people in it than it was supposed to.

"Quick, pass me the saw."

"Which one?"

"The one on your left. No, no, your other left."

"What's going here?" Hiccup interrupted, folding his arms.

The prisoner that the cell was supposed to contain was cuffed in a pair of silver, with chains the same material dangling from his legs. Garlic had been strewn at four corners of the cell. All this was pretty standard protocol for vampire control, so whilst Hiccup thought it overkill, it was all still expected.

What wasn't protocol was that the prisoner being tied to the table, gagged and hovered over by a pair of maniacal twins; one holding a chain-saw, one wielding a warhammer. Next to them was a table filled with everything from a toolbox to a powder barrel to a defibrillator.

"Oh, hello, Hiccup," Tuffnut greeted him completely without shame, even waving the chainsaw a little in the air. "What you doing up and about to these parts?"

"My father, the _chief_ ," he made sure to emphasise the 'chief' "-has asked me to bring the prisoner before the council. _Alive_." He raised a brow at the chainsaw.

"Oh, we weren't going to hurt him," Ruffnut assured, not so subtly hiding a long wooden stake behind her.

"Much," Tuffnut added behind his hand, not realising that Hiccup could hear him perfectly.

The white-haired prisoner had tilted his head towards him, and his eyes begged, _"Save me!"_

Hiccup rubbed his temple. Sometimes, being chief-in-training was really overrated. "Okay," he finally said. "Can you guys please go?"

"But we haven't even started the first test," Tuffnut complained, flicking the switch of the chainsaw on and letting it give out saw _'whirrrrrrrr'_.

Though it wasn't likely that he would be hurt, the vampire still flinched.

Hiccup however just stomped his metal leg down and pointing to the exit. "Out. Now."

Grumbling under their breath, the twin reluctantly gathered up their belongings. Even as they departed, Tuffnut was complaining about the abuse of authority, almost dropping a can of petrol when he shook a fist in the air.

Rolling his eyes, Hiccup entered the cell and removed the gag from the prisoner's mouth. "Sorry about that."

Jack was still looking a little wild-eyed as he propped himself up onto the table. Well, as much as he could with his two hands cuffed hands together. "Three times," he spat out, wrinkling his nose. "Three times in these two weeks have I been kidnapped and-or attacked!"

"Maybe you're just very easy to kidnap and attack."

"Hey!"

"Anyway, I have to read you your rights before I bring you." Hiccup pulled out his phone and searched for the notes.

Jack pulled a face. "What, like a right to remain silent and all that?"

"Uhh, no. You don't have that right down here. If you're asked to talk, you have to talk." Hiccup scrolled up till he found the page. "Yeah, only that whatever you say can and will be used against you."

"Seriously?"

"You broke the treaty between our clan and yours, Jack." Uh, that headache was back again, pinching against his skull. "What were you thinking, crossing hunting grounds at this time of the month?"

"It was an emergency! And I totally forgot about full moon." Jack had the decency to look at little ashamed.

"Yeah, well, you might have started an all-out war between both our clans." The auburn-haired boy shrugged as he undid the leg cuffs. "C'mon. Let's get you convicted."

~~~0~~~

 _Case Number: 13425623432_

 _Date: 19 February 2014_

 _Reporting Officer: Deputy Richter_

 _Prepared by: Officer Conli_

 _Incident Type: Murder_

 _Address of Occurrence: Burgess High School, 37 Hawthorn Road, Burgess, PS 159000_

 _Witnesses: Jack F. Guardian: Student. Male. 17. American._

 _(REST OF LIST OMITTED FOR PRIVACY OF STUDENTS)_

 _Evidence: Surveillance Footage._

 _Weapon/ Object Used: Knife/Sword. Yet unfound._

 _On February 19, 2014, at approximately 1635, a student Jack Guardian went to his locker during a school organised blood donation programme, as witnessed by various fellow students. He was seen opening the locker, and appeared shock when a body came tumbling out. "I was just going to get my laptop," Jack F. Guardian said in his witness statement. According to him, he had last opened his locker in the morning at approximately 0712, when his locker contents had not been tampered. This statement is supported by surveillance footage._

 _There is however no noticeable activity near the locker between the time Jack F. Guardian first used the locker that day to the time he found the body. Witness interviewed stated they didn't notice anything peculiar about the body until the time Guardian opened the locker. No possible suspects known as of yet._

~~~0~~~

In the three and half years that he had been in the force – excluding the two that he had spent as a glorified coffee boy – Officer Conli had never met someone like Flynn Rider. Then again, he had lived his entire life in Burgess, which wasn't exactly known for having very extraordinary people. So on that alone, just the novelty on having an outsider in town in itself was of remark.

But P.I. Rider – he refused the title of 'Detective' – wasn't strange as much as he was eccentric. That meant he was still strange, but insisted what he was doing made perfect sense.

"Not meaning to be a bother, Mr. Rider, sir," the police officer asked as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. The surveillance room of Burgess High School didn't have air-conditioning and the ceiling fan twirling above them was so slow that it might as well not been there. "But we've been staring at this for this last hour."

"Yep." The man with goatee craned his neck up towards the dusty screen, squinting as he replayed the footage over and over again. When the timestamp showed 07:12am, a blurred image of a white-haired boy was seen dashing to the locker at the corner of the screen, shoving something in and then darting off.

Before it hit 4:35pm, few others were seen around the locker. Well, there were a couple of students who loitered near the area and a cleaner who appeared to wiping down all the lockers with a cloth – a rather tedious approach. Okay, there was one occasion where a student was being shoved against a locker in the area, but it wasn't at the locker of their concern, so it didn't really matter.

When the timestamp rolled back to 4:35pm, this time caught at an angle that allowed one to make out a bit of his face, the white-haired boy's figure could be noted moving up to the lockers again, opening the door of one of them. The body, a blurry mass in the footage, was seen tumbling out.

Fanning himself with the notepad that he had brought a long, Conli asked, "So…have you found anything?"

"I just find it odd the perspective of the scene was altered between the two timings," Rider remarked, as he clicked on the backward button. The officer standing behind let out a quiet sigh.

"Sir," Conli tried to sound patient. He knew that the Sheriff didn't really like Rider, and vice versa, but the Sheriff also made it clear that Rider should be accommodated as much as possible. The last thing the force needed was for him to walk away from the case. They were all out of ideas at this point, and they needed to prove to the town that we weren't completely incompetent. "You know what they said about their cameras. They switch to cameras at certain times to prevent overheating. The footage at 7.35am was recorded from a different camera at 4.35pm."

"Stupid idea," said Rider gruffly, except that he used a much cruder phrase instead of 'stupid'.

"It's a public school. They're not exactly stacked with dough," the younger officer defended, albeit weakly. "Besides, the same area was covered by the other camera, wasn't it?"

The brunette fellow didn't reply, choosing to lean forward and squint at the screen. Finally, he said, "Let's go exam the lockers."

Conli let out a huge sigh of relief. He would later curse himself for believing thing would be that easy.

When they got to barricaded area that was the scene of crime, Rider insisted on examining every inch of the locker; checking dimensions, looking at paint job, squinting really, really hard at the numbers. Any student who had stopped to watch them quickly grew bored and eventually scuttled off to his or her own classes.

"When did they say that they switch on the surveillance cams again?" Rider was asking at he peered down at the vents of the green metal door.

"For the main school hall, after nine pm."

Again, the private investigator remarked a phrase that wasn't so nice.

"They say that the custodian locks the place up by eight, so they never felt the need to leave the cameras running," Conli read off from his notepad, flipping. "Oh, except for the computer room. That's the only place in the school with things worth stealing."

"Public school computers? Not worth the robbery." Rider sniffed as he scratched against the vents, peeling off something thin and transparent. It was apparent plastic tape, layered over and over until it covered the whole vent.

Conli cleared his throat. "Um, I think we're not supposed to remove anything from the scene of…"

"Did anyone ask the boy if he stuck the tape himself on the vents himself?"

"What?"

"Did anyone ask the boy if he stuck the tape himself on the vents himself?"

"Err…" Conli flipped through his notebook, then pulled the file from his sling bag and browsed hastily through it. "Oh, um. No."

"Well, make a note to ask him." Rider crunched the tape up into a ball and tossed it nonchalantly behind him. The police officer sighed as he scribbled the note.

The investigator then proceeded to fiddle with the lock of the locker – one of those types attached to wall of the locker that required the individual to roll the numbers wheels to form a combination. Rider didn't touch the outside however, just fiddled with the interior side of the lock.

Eventually, he ceased that meaningless activity to shut the locker door. He then proceeded to stare at the dark green door, then glanced down the whole line of lockers that flanked the corridor. Conli himself admitted it was quite an ugly sight, really – the rows and rows of narrow green rectangles lined tightly against one another. No décor was sighted on any of the doors, for apparently school regulation forbade such tampering. The lack of personalisation made the only distinguishing factor between the lockers the black numbers painted on them.

Apparently, these black printed numbers were worth their attention, because time and time again, Rider kept staring at those number printed on the locker in front of him, which said 'A28'. He also kept tracing over it with his gloved finger, as it doing that might tell himself something important.

Letting out a light cough, Conli inquired, "So, what now?"

Rider didn't answer at once, choosing to glance over at the lockers to his left. He pulled at the door labelled A27, which didn't budge. He then tried the next one, and this time managed to open it. He checked the back of the door, examining the lock there. He then proceed to do the same for A25, A24, and A23, in which only the last of them could be opened.

"Can we find out if there's any student assigned to this locker?" the investigator pointed to the opened locker, as he once again proceeded to stare at the interior side of its door.

Conli creased his brow. "Well, I suppose we could, but it doesn't have any rele-"

"Good. Do that." Rider shut the locker door, then yanked it open again. Then let it shut again. "And I'll need to know the person in charge of the cleaning operations for this place." Stepping away from the lockers ( _at last!)_ , he ripped off his latex gloves. "By the way, the Guardian boy never got his belongings back did he?"

"Sir?"

"The ones that were in his locker." The investigator rolled the gloves up into the air, before swinging his arm back and letting it fly in the air. It landed perfectly in the bin.

Conli didn't know whether to be impressed or annoyed, considering that the less-responsibly-disposed ball of tape was still sitting at his heels. The only thing that the young officer said was, however, "No, we haven't been able to recover them. We thought the perpetrator might have dumped it somewhere or stolen it."

Rider seemed to have expected this, for he didn't reply, merely waving at his baffled partner. He didn't cast a second glance at the crime scene any longer "We'll return to the station then."

"Yes, sir." Conli nodded respectfully. Inwardly, he was still enormously puzzled.

~~~0~~~

Elinor Dunbroch was in many ways the quintessential 'soccer-mom'. She was the kind that her children's class timetables on the fridge and freshly-packed lunches in the morning. She always had a drawer full of scrap cloths in time for Halloween and personally-wrapped presents (complete with individually signed cards and cloth-ribbon bows) at Christmas. She kept her home spotless and her meals spectacular. She got on with the neighbours, on every volunteer committees and had been nominated as 'Burgess-ian of the Year' twice by the local press.

These achievements were all very remarkable, considering her genetics predisposed her to the consumption of children. Or the summoning of demons. Whichever was convenient.

Now, it wasn't to say that Elinor had no respect for the traditions of her kin. Quite the contrary, she was very proud of her lineage. But being proud of one's ancestry didn't equate to actually practicing the ancient arts. Not to say that Elinor never used to a spell or two to fix her cooking, but she wasn't half as interested in pursuing the arcane as she was in printing monograms.

Moreover, a witch shouldn't be so occupied with her children either. Well, at least the sons. The daughters, when of age, should be groomed in the Dark Arts, so that after their mother's passing, the culling can begin and the last daughter might inherit the full magnitude of her parent's powers. The cycle repeated through the generations, until the witch in question decided that having children was too bothersome and spent her life interpreting the guts of sheep or prying out tongues from serpents. Oh, and also dissecting their little brothers - you know, for witchcraft.

Perhaps in view of such, Elinor Dunbroch's life choices made a little more sense.

Her daughter didn't really agree her way of life. Not that Merida found the calling of witchcraft appealing - oh, no. But Merida just didn't agree with anything because she was stubborn, irresponsible girl so determined on making her own fate.

Look where that led.

It's the third day in a row that Elinor turned up at the county police department and the clerk has long given up asking her what she wanted. Carefully balancing the cookie tin in her hand, she headed to the Sheriff's office. The moustached-man had previously hinted that her direct visits to him were discouraged, since he was ' _a very, very busy man'_ , but she had pretended to not notice this and let herself into office.

"Good morning, Sheriff D'Guarde," she greeted him blithely.

The man, who was in the process of reading his morning paper whilst sipping its matching coffee, jumped, and thus spilled the mentioned coffee onto the mentioned paper. His moustache seemed to twitch as he slowly raised his head, upon which he was greeted by Elinor's bright smile.

Without waiting to be invited, she took the seat across his, expression expectant. "I trust that today that might be some news of progress in the my daughter's case?"

Usually by this time, the sheriff would have set his mug down, wiped the coffee off his moustache and chin, before beginning to explain that he's got men on the case, but these kind of things take time, and be rest assured that the criminal would be brought to justice. But the sheriff only did the first two out of three of his before a sly look crossed his face. Rising to his feet, he headed towards the door, saying, "As it happens, Mrs. Dunbroch, there's a new man in charge of your daughter's case. Quite a well-known fellow - might have seen him in the papers." He held the door open. "Shall we?"

Curious, Elinor allowed the Sheriff to lead her through the musty corridor, past the cramped cubicles and haggard officers, all along while he sung praised of this 'detective' that they had working on the case.

"Not really one of us - not even in the force, really. Runs his own gig down in Corona, but he comes highly recommended."

"' _Highly recommended_ '?" Elinor repeated, brow arching.

"Yes, and I've no doubt he'll be able to address all your queries." The Sheriff appeared oddly pleased with himself, like he had both the bird in the hand and two in the bush. He finally stopped at one unlabelled office and shoved the door open without ceremony. "Oy, Rider!"

The only person in the messy room was sitting on the desk, knees crossed as he studied the notes on a clip board. He was not in uniform, rather dressed in a rather flattering cut of a vest and shirt. When the individual looked up at the intruders, Elinor was surprised at how young he appeared to be. No older than thirty, and ' _highly recommended_ '? She wondered how he could have earned such an accolade in such a short period of time.

As it was, the young man with the trimmed goatee scowled at them, almost snarling, "D'Guarde."

"This is Mrs. Dunbroch," the sheriff introduced her, purposely ignoring the irritation on his colleague's face. "And Mrs. Dunbroch, Flynn Rider."

"How do you do, Detective Rider," Elinor greeted, stretching a hand out.

The young man didn't take the hand, merely peering at it. Or more accurately, the ring that she had around her finger. At last, he said, "I'm not a detective. I'm P. I."

Elinor's forehead creased quizzically as she dropped her hand.

"There's a difference."

"Well, I'm sure you too have a lot to discuss." Sheriff D'Guarde was looking awfully pleased with himself for reason, and that only intensified the dark mood Rider had. "I'll leave you two to it then." With that, he took his leave.

A strained growl emerged from the back of Not-Detective Rider's throat as he climbed off the table, and he sunk down on the chair behind it. He was clearly displeased with the situation. Elinor sympathized, of course, but surely he didn't need to be so obvious about it.

She took the empty seat across from his own, laying the tin over her lap and folding her hands over it. "I understand that you must be very busy working on my daughter's case, so I will strive to make this brief," she said without preamble. "I just want to know what you've found."

Rider considered her for a moment, brows furrowed as he rubbed his goatee. At last, he simply repeated, "You want to know what I've found."

"Yes." She stared at him, raising a brow. "Like evidence. Or suspects. Anything."

He returned to staring at her, again not speaking. From the intensity of his gaze, she could almost hear the cogs in his head turning and realised that he was actually studying her. His gaze rested briefly to her wrist, then up to the white-streak running to the back of her head, then to the elaborately embroidered motifs of her sleeves. It was a little disturbing, and also quite rude.

Tapping the heel of her shoe against the floor, Elinor queried, "Well?"

He flipped back the pages of his clipboard, reclining against his chair. His brows narrowed together. "How long have you lived here, Mrs. Dunbroch?"

Elinor frowned. "I believe I had asked you a question first."

"Just humour me."

She bit her lip, considering her options. At last, she answered, "Thirty years now. Why?"

"Why this particular place town? Why so far away from Stirling?"

"How did you know-"

He lifted off a few sheet on the board, then pointed at one paragraph. "Had you checked up."

The lady was properly aghast, and a little fearful – just in case he found something that _really_ important. "How dare you!"

She reached to snatch the board, only for him to withdraw it. "Ma'am," he said, undaunted by her furious expression. "It's part of my job to find out the tiniest details of a case just in case they might be related – and trust me, they usually are."

"But background search on me is a breach of confidentiality!" Elinor fumed, rising on her feet involuntarily. The cookie tin was smashed against the table as she glared at him.

"Then perhaps you understand that in a task requiring the breaching of confidentiality on so many fronts, I can't freely dispense the information that I've obtained." His expression was cool, but there was a hint of smug that she didn't like in his tone.

Her expression, which had been enraged before, now was twisted with confusion. "I don't understand."

"I'd just like you to consider that you're not the only one affected by your daughter's death. So, if you don't mind-" rising from his seat and smoothly stepping around her "-I have work to do."

He was out of the room before she could say anything, slamming the door behind him as he went. He had taken that clipboard with him too, which left if her with zero answers and way too many questions.

Picking up the cookie tin with a huff, Elinor was about to stomp her way out when she noticed a small slip of something wipe on the floor. Picking it up, she noticed it was a hastily-written address - _"32 Merchant Lane."_

Peering at the closed door, she pondered on what exactly to do.

Later, when Officer Conli came to drop some files off at Rider's empty office, he was surprised by the tin of cookies left there.

~~~0~~~

Considering the pittance of pay that an average teacher in public school earned, it was pretty difficult to believe that this was the home of a history tutor.

It was grand, ugly thing, sprawling unevenly over the grassy hill that had been squashed to accommodate its imprudent weight. It had an air of dignity and snobbery about it; an accurate reflection, perhaps, of its inhabitants.

Such lavish homes didn't intimidate Flynn at all. In fact, he had, within a minute of seeing it, worked out at least four ways to break into it. One of those ways would involve a bottle of turpentine, an expert knowledge of woodwork and also a wild beaver. But not all knowledge was useful, especially when one was unable to perform the 'entering' portion of 'breaking-and-entering'.

Nonetheless, cunning was still a close ally of Flynn Rider and it was with complete confidence that he reached for the doorbell and pressed it. As he waited, he adjust the knobs of his newly purchased camera. He hadn't the clue how to use it, but he reckoned the man he was looking for did either.

Speaking of which, the owner of Manor had arrived, looking rather perturbed in his gaudy red robe, tied to his waist by a gold-buckled belt. The comical curves of his moustache seemed to twitch as he appraised the unfamiliar fellow that paid a call this late hour. Finally, he spoke, "What?"

"Good evening," greeted Flynn, manner cordial and light. "Apologies for disturbing you, but I'm from the _Burgess Weekly_ , and we're doing a story on families important to the Heritage of the town."

The weasel-y small fellow raised a brow, making the white mop of hair on his shift a little. "Oh?"

"Yes, it is well known that Weaseltown Manor-"

"Weselton!" came the displeased interruption. Clearing his throat, the man repeated a little more collectedly, "It's Weselton."

"Ah, sorry about that," the offender apologised smoothly. "As I was saying, _Weselton_ Manor is one of Burgess' timeless monuments and it's pretty important that the younger generation knows more about it. Now, I know that the manor's been closed for visits for a while-"

"Darn straight." Weselton nodded with a righteous expression. "Those pesky kids sneaking around – just don't trust them, you know."

"Agreed. Anyway, since we wouldn't any of those 'pesky kids' sneaking here, I was wondering if I could come in and take some photos. For the papers, you know."

This was it. He had laid out the bait, but the owner of the Manor needed to give him the right answer first.

Weselton stroked his chin slowly, humming a little. "Well, it's just for historical preservation, isn't it?"

 _C'mon. C'mon._ "And for future generations to know, yes."

"And it will be in the papers…" the bald fellow – well, bald under that ridiculous toupee, at least – murmured to himself.

"Yep, so that the whole town could read it." _C'mon. C'mon!_

After a moment – a pain, gut-wrenching moment – the wiry elderly gentleman finally answered in an oily, condescending manner, "Well, I suppose I could spare a few minutes of my time. Please-" holding open the door "-come in, but use the shoe mat first. Can't have dirt on these carpets, you know."

"Of course." _Bingo._

From what he had read in the actual _Burgess Weekly_ , the Weseltons had been one of the wealthiest families in Burgess. Before the World War, its influence of the small town of Burgess was only rivalled by the actual 'founders-of-the-town' Burgess family. However, most of the men had been wiped out either in service or by contagion during the late forties, and a bulk of the families' original properties had been sold off. Though they had long faded in the backdrop, it appeared that there was still enough of the old fortune for surviving family to live comfortably. Even if that survivor happened to work at a public school.

Of course, the current Weselton himself made it sound like his family heritage was still the greatest thing in the world since ice-cream. "As you can see this is a portrait of my great-great-great-grandfather, the 4th Duke of Weselton back in Norway," the skinny, small man boasted, gesturing towards the erratic collage of paint over the fireplace. It was supposed to be a portrait, but it looked more like a fruit cake. "He practically invented the polka, if you didn't know."

"Oh, I didn't," Flynn answered dryly, as he took the obligatory photo. He was pretty sure that the polka originated from the Czechs, but who said that history teachers had to know any real history.

Though he had claimed that he was only going to spare a few minutes, Weselton made it very clear that he intended to spend the entire evening talking about every single heirloom, artefact and mothball that dwelled in the giant building. Even the floorboards had an _'absolutely fascinating tale_ ', and there was no way that Flynn could get out of being regaled in it.

As the tour with an unnecessarily long commentary dragged on, the brunette man scanned his surroundings carefully, checking every nook and cranny for anything suspicious. There was nothing in sight however that caught his fancy and the longer Weselton's spiel got, the more he regretted coming here.

"Just out of curiosity, Mr. Weselton," Flynn managed to interrupt during one story of how his granduncle's third-cousin-in-law-twice-removed's cockatoo's cage had accidentally invented prisons. "I noticed you have a lot of painting in your place. Does your family have anything to do with the Burgess' Gallery of Art?"

"Well, the museum was founded by some Danish lord of sorts," Weselton waved his gloved hand carelessly as he spoke. "He was good friends with my grandfather, and the care of the museum was passed to my family afterwards. Of course, my foolish, over-generous mother-" he sneered "-donated to the Town Council. Do you know that they let visitors in for free? Abominable! Absolutely no business sense."

"Ghastly," Flynn supplied in agreeing fashion, but his eyes darted to the moving wrist of old fellow. There was something black along skin, largely covered by the long-sleeves and the gloves. A suspicion crept upon the investigator, but a closer look would be needed.

"This next room will be a real treat, I can assure you." His boastful host led him down the carpeted corridor – if the moth-eaten thing beneath his feet could be called carpet at all. "Now, this one was built by my father's cousin's husband's brother after a trip to France. Visiting the Palace of Versailles had inspired him so much that he just needed to make it something like it." Weselton let out a chuckle for some reason.

"That's sound really interesting," was what Flynn said, when really he should have remembered what Versailles was, and what it was famous for.

"Now, might I present-" Weselton usher him inside, gesturing eagerly around "-Weselton Manor's Hall of Mirrors."

The room itself was actually pretty well designed, considering the budget that its crafter had. Its pastel wallpaper made everything feel light and warm. Two large windows that allowed the sun during daytime. Two large mirrors were posed opposite them, so that sunlight could reflect upon it and illuminate the whole place. It would have been a very delightful sight indeed.

But no one in the room cared about the architectural marvel it was. They were occupied instead with the fact that the mirror only showed the reflection of one of the men.

Before Flynn could properly process what was happening, Weselton already had a gun in his hand. Cocking it, his gaunt fingers curled around the trigger. Right before the bullet could its mark, however, the vampire managed to shift. The silver grazed his skin rather than piercing his brain.

The wiry, old fellow however was not as fragile as his age would make him out to be. His free hand darted under his robe to pull out a gleaming dart. With a toss of his hand, he had it launched towards Flynn. This, however, was caught by the lens of the camera, dead centre into the glass.

The private investigator sighed. That camera had been pretty expensive.

Since it wasn't going to take an mind-blowingly awesome photographs anymore, Flynn tossed it his assailant. Hard.

The impact of the camera's weight against Weselton, combined with the inhumanly large force that Flynn had thrown it at, was enough to send the old man falling backwards, gun tipping from his hand the same time. On the ground, the old man still clutched at his chest, wheezing heavily. His shaking hand reached for his firearms, but Flynn kicked it across the hall.

He saw Weselton's left hand reach under the robe again, and grabbed his wrist in time. The old fellow cried out as his arm was twisted backwards. Flynn's face didn't change. Crouching down, he gazed at the struggling man with a cold expression. "Let's not complicate things, shall we?"

"Please." Without his weapon, the pompous man was reduced to a trembling, grovelling mess. "I'm just a humble history teacher. I don't have anything that you want." He made a high-pitched whine that maybe was supposed to sound pitiful, but it just irritated Flynn even more.

Crouching down, he grabbed Weselton by the collar, snapping, "You teach at Burgess High. A few months ago, you had been placed in charge of cleaning staff– not in your job scope, but it has its uses. I also know that you were working overtime late into the night on 18th February, and you allowed in a person into the main school building when the surveillance cameras had been switched off to save money. A person carrying a body."

Weselton whimpered, trying to pull away too no avail.

The vampire yanked off the glove and pushed back the sleeve. There it was on the old man's inner wrist; the 'V' and 'H' intertwined with a wreathe of wild roses. Throwing it down in disgust, he let out a low growl, causing the gaunt man to shrink back further.

"You're no murderer yourself – you're too squeamish," Flynn continued, bearing a disgusted expression. "But you helped the murderer hide the body in the locker _'A28'_ , which belonged to a certain _'Jack F. Guardian'_. You shifted his belongings to the empty locker at 'A23' and used a white board marker trace over it. You also altered the lock to match of the code of his original. In a corridor of identical, undifferentiated and narrowly-cut lockers, it had all too been easy to trick a busy young man into believing A23 to be his actual locker when entering the school. That's where he stashed his laptop before racing off to conduct his blood donation drive."

"You then sent the cleaning staff specific instructions to wipe down all the locker-doors along the corridor, claiming that the area might be 'infected' with the blood drive going on. The cleaning staff thus unwittingly removed the ink that had made 'A23' look like 'A28', thus leaving only one A28 for Jack to find on his return, and where he would find the body. This change was barely noticed on surveillance cameras, since the camera angle over the scene changes across time – a so-called 'energy-saving solution' proposed by you some time ago."

"Subsequently, you paid a student to empty out Jack Guardian's belongings in 'A23' and bring them to you. That locker hadn't been cordoned off, since it was five doors down from the actual site. Thus perfecting the illusion that the body had miraculously appeared in his locker." Grinning in a manner that was inappropriately mirthful, Flynn asked, "Did I miss anything?"

The old fellow paused. Eventually - "Covering the vents with tape was my idea. Didn't want the boy to catch sniff of the witch before he opened it." Even though trembling, he sounded _proud. Pleased even._

The vampire's smile fell away. "I see. That is quite clever, isn't it?"

"Well, if I say so myself-"

"SHUT UP!"

The man pressed his lips together, suddenly remembering his position.

Letting out a deep exhale, Flynn suddenly yanked Weselton to his feet, his palm pressing into his throat. "Now, here's what going to happen," he hissed, his fangs starting to reveal themselves. "You're going to tell me everything you know, and I might possibly not kill you. How's that?"

The weaselly man gulped.

~~~0~~~

Gunfire.

Glancing up from her phone, Elinor's gaze zeroed-in to the upper window of the manor, where the commotion was from.

For the last two hours, waiting along 32 Merchant Lane had been incredibly uneventful. The private investigator had been inside for a really long time, and she had grown quite bored of waiting for him to emerge. She had checked her watch several times, had puttered around listlessly as dusk turned into night. The moonlight had provided little solace as she fidgeted with her hands, wondering what was taking so long. Wondering whether coming here had been a mistake, when she could have spent the evening with her family instead.

Apparently, her intuition had been right.

Wrapping her shawl around her, Elinor darted away from the spot that she had been hiding at, over to a nearby tree. Murmuring a short incantation, she watched as the mighty birch twist its branches around, arranging itself to form a stair-shaped construct from its twigs and overhangs. Hastily, she climbed up the branches, careful not to snag her heels between leaves.

When she arrived the end of the impromptu stairs, she was found herself staring at curtains. She heard sounds of struggle, some pleas, but saw nothing. Frustrated, she placed her hand against the tree, murmuring a few more words of encouragement.

The birch obliged by using its branches to extend into a platform, along her to go much closer to the window. With the curtains drawn, she still couldn't see much, but she was able to make out the conversation better.

"-is he?" she heard being demanded. "Tell, where is he?" That was the Not-Detective Rider's voice.

Pressing her ear against the glass, Elinor could make out the softer voice. It was choking. Hoarse. Frightened. "Please, I can't – if I do, they'll kill me. They'll-"

"If you don't, I'll kill you." Rider's tone was chilling, and it was beyond doubt that he was seriously.

An huge sense of uneasiness settled itself in her stomach.

"I can't-"

"You can. You're going to tell me-"

"Please, I'm begging you. I can't-" it was loud 'crack' and an agonised yell.

Elinor yanked herself away for a second, horrified.

It didn't end there though. There were more pleas, more cries, more sounds resembling the breaking of bones and the bruising of flesh. She could almost imagine the blood splattering everywhere.

She should run. Call the police. Call Fergus.

But she didn't. She stood there frozen, listening as the man in charge of solving her daughter's murder was beating some poor soul to a bloody pulp. She needed to do something. She needed help. She needed advice.

She reached into her cloak for the small stone there, rubbing her thumb furiously over it while whispering the ancient words, hoping that her call would be answered.

~~~0~~~

"You don't-" _wheeze_ "-you don't get it, do you?"

The blood was starting to get to his head, even though he had fed less than twenty-four hours ago. But in his rage and frustration, he hadn't been keeping his emotions in check, and thus, his emotions were starting to make certain decision more tempting than before.

Curling his blood-soaked finger into a ball, Flynn asked, "What do you mean?"

Weselton coughed. His face was a wreck. His skin was littered with scratches. His hands and legs …well…let's say that they were in position that weren't exactly natural. Yet, he was still alive and he could talk. Those to features could be easily removed, but Flynn was still using his brain at this point and didn't do so.

The old man croaked through ugly breaths and wrecking coughs. "You're a monster – a _nosferatu_ ," he uttered the word with a sneer, which made Flynn want to hit him again. "You're terrifying, but you're nowhere as terrifying as _him_."

Flynn paused, crouching down to look into his bloodshot eyes.

Weselton heaved a painful breath, huffing, "We – we want creatures like you vanquished. Yes-" he coughed, and this time, blood splattered down his lips "-we want you decimated from the Earth. But Westergaard- " his gaze was disorientated "-he's not like us. No, no, he's more like-" one of his bent finger attempted to move, pointing towards his assailant. "He wants only one thing, and he'll do anything to achieve it. He's-" cough "-he's unhinged. Uncontrollable. Unpredict-"

"What is that he wants?" came the interruption, urgent.

"-relentless." Weselton's eyes had glazed over, his speech garbled. "Ruthless. Radical. Resentful." He hacked a cough, his cut lips crusted with blood. "Re- _remorseful_."

And he was dead.

Flynn sighed, sitting down neck to the mangled body of the old Van Helsing agent. He gave a cursory glance at the mess that had been made. Blood, blood everywhere.

He stared down at the red liquid on his hand, then licked it. Still warm. Would be a pity to waste it.

~~~0~~~

She watched when he had carried the body out of the Manor.

She retched when he had uncovered an axe, and chopped the corpse into smaller portions.

She noticed his unusual strength and speed, and also the white fangs protruding over his bloodied lips.

She slunk back into the darkness, storing all she had seen in her mind.

~~~0~~~

 **Sorry folks. I've been busy running errands, trying to earn some money, stuff like that.**

 **Yes, I'll get around updating all my other stories.**

 **For the next chapter, if I could give a chapter title, it would 'Elsa Alone'.**

 **Oh, yeah. There has been confusion about whether the stuff in the last chapter are in fact part of the story. And the answer is that everything in the last chapter part of the story. The only fake part is the part where I pretended that I was quitting this story, but because I suck at humour, nobody got the joke and confusion ensued. Comedy is hard guys.**

 **Bye.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Instead of a Recap, I suggest reading the previous few chapters so that this one seems longer.**

 **~~~0~~~**

Elsa could see blood everywhere.

Logically, she knew it couldn't possibly be real. Logically, she knew that there was no way the world was so red, as if frozen in a perpetual sunset. But that's what she saw, and it made her want to puke.

She had done so actually, and everything that had been heaved up from her stomach was brown. Rust-scented, brown chunks in liquid.

She had needed to get away from home, but the sun had been too bright, so she couldn't run that far.

And he was watching. Maybe not always, but he was watching.

A part of her felt like cracking her own skull open, if that could get him out of her head. But anything she did to harm herself would only lead bring her closer to _his_ goal. For through her death in the flesh, she would arise reborn as his queen.

His _slave_.

Five days, he had told her. Just five days, before she was to die. He was being generous, in his eyes, to even let her live out the last of her life with those she loved. She was to be his for all eternity, so what a few days?

She hated this. She hated _him_.

Elsa buried her face in her hands. She was sitting in a cafe, nicely air-conditioned and out of sunlight. The coffee that she had bought to buy her time here has long gone cold, and the smell of it made her even more nauseous.

Maybe she should have picked somewhere else to crash. Anyway, didn't Anna patronise this place? At least, it matched the cup that she had on her that night when…

The girl's nails bit into her palms.

For Anna. She was doing this for Anna. And if things went according to plan, Anna had a chance of being hurt. So she had to do this right.

It was then she could feel him peeping up in the back of her mind, and her loathing from him swelled. Shoving away those thoughts from before, she lifted the coffee to her nose and tried to focus on how it made her want to throw up. As horrible as it made her feel, Elsa noticed that she could feel his interest in her circumstances wane, probably disapproving that she still insisted on touching human food. Did he seriously only drink blood? That was a rather boring diet.

It was then she noticed a notification on her phone screen. Tapping on it, a message appeared. Hastily checking the back of her mind, hoping that _he_ wasn't paying any attention, Elsa scanned the messages:

 _11:13am: Mum says ok._

 _11:13am: She says u can come stay with us too if u want. The sofa can open up into a queen bed._

Elsa quickly typed back her response: ' _It's ok. I've other arrangements.'_

A couple dots appear on the screen, then the white speech bubble appeared on the screen, bearing: ' _You sure? We're really ok.'_

So generous. So willing to share. Why couldn't more people be like Kristoff?

 _Oh, no._ She thought his name. Quick! Quick! Change stream of thought!

Elsa shoved the coffee under her nose again and instantly gagged. Oh, why couldn't she think of a better way of going about this?

"Are you alright?"

Elsa blinked, glancing wide-eyed to the lady who sitting at the booth near her own, nursing a cup of tea. The streak of white in her hair and the wrinkles arounds the contours of her faces suggested her in late middle-aged category. She had kindly look about her, and she bore a concerned expression.

Laying the horrendous beverage down, Elsa tried to smile. "Um, yes? Sorry if I've been bothering you in any-"

"Oh, no, no, I'm just waiting for someone, so there's nothing much going on at the moment," the lady answered with a gentle laugh – one that oddly reminded Elsa of her mother's own. It was warm and caring. "I just noticed that you're looking a bit pale and you haven't drunken any of your coffee. Are you well?"

"Oh, ah," the girl tried to scramble for some semblance of a sensible reason.

Fortunately, the woman seemed to come up with that all on her own. Leaning forward, inquiring - "Is it _that_ time of the month?"

Not able to provide a better story, Elsa nodded.

"Oh, you poor dear." The lady clucked her tongue sympathetically. "There're many great things about being a woman, but that certainly isn't one of them. Here." She opened the her purse, the hardy leather type that one might see a sensible mum carrying. She pulled out a small plastic bag. Within it was what appeared to be a mix of dried flowers, dried leaves and seeds. "A tea concoction of my own making. Just add some boiling water and the pain will roll right off."

"Oh." The girl wasn't sure how to refuse. Sure, after everything that had happened in the last weeks, the last thing she should do was accept anything from a stranger. Still, she could throw the thing away later if she wanted – it was easier than being caught in her lie. "Well, um, thank you."

Reaching out to take the packet, she noticed the lady's gaze drop to her left hand, from her scarred wrist to the ring on her fourth finger. Her eyes, which had been soft before, sudden gained an astute quality, narrowing down on her.

In a quiet voice, the lady said, "That's a nice ring."

Every muscle in her body tensed up, and the fear building in her mind was not helping in terms of warding off its back-seat driver. She clenched her received gift into her hand. "Thank you."

The lady seemed to be scrutinising her carefully, before pushing away her own cup. Folding her arms and leaning forward, she asked, "You seem a little young to be married."

' _Laugh it off,'_ a voice in Elsa's head hissed at her. _'Just laugh it off and pretend that you placed on the wrong finger this morning.'_

The blonde girl stared down at the sapphire hilted on its golden throne and saw herself removing it, letting out a strained chuckle as she did. "Oh, uh, silly me. Um, right – forgot all about that meaning. Hahaha."

"Oh, I see," the lady's expression appeared doubtful. Still, she did go back to nursing her tea.

Elsa's fake smile stayed plastered on her face even as she screaming in her mind, _'Even if I say anything, there's nothing she can do, is there? '_

' _That's for me to decide, beloved,'_ his voice, ever thick in condescension, echoed in the recesses of her mind. Already, she saw herself slipping her ring back on the cursed finger under the table, when the lady's head had been turned.

' _I hate you,'_ she spat at him, reaching for her coffee once more. _'Now go away.'_

She could feel his disgusting swelling in the background. _'Why you insist of drinking that, I have no idea. Your body now loathes it, beloved. Why torture it so?'_

' _It might be the last time I can even swallow this.'_ She braced herself before taking a sip. It was…actually…not too awful. It was nice, even.

 _Oh, no - wait._ Wait. _No_. It was coming up her throat. Yes, it was definitely coming up her throat.

Spring to her feet, the girl made a beeline for the bathroom. Practically crashing to her knees, she grabbed the side of the bowl before proceeding to spew out all the beverage she had sampled – and a suspiciously black liquid riddled with brown clots.

When some of the nausea subsided, Elsa lifted her head and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Well, I hope you're happy now," she muttered out loud.

There was no reply, not even the sensation of a reply. She kneeled silently there for a moment, glancing around the wall for any hint of shadow, movement, or any indication that he was listening at all.

Not a peep. Perhaps her gross little show had put him off for a bit. That gave her a little wiggle room. Pulling out her phone, the girl checked the screen. Finally, a new message flashed there:

 _11:11am: Arrived. Ready when you are._

Elsa sucked in a breath as she hastily rose to her feet. Admittedly, her steps were wobbly since her bout of nausea was very, very real. Still, she was able to gather herself enough to gargle a scoop of water from the sink, straighten out her tangled locks and take a deep breath. She pushed open the bathroom door, all ready to set out —

—only to run into the same lady from before, purse in hand and grave in appearance.

"I was just worried with how you ran off like that," the lady explained hastily. "Are you sure that you are-" she just trailed off there as her gaze fell just a little lower from Elsa's face.

At first, the girl couldn't understand what she was staring at. But then it hit her that somehow her scarf had become unfastened, and her neck – and the marks it bore – were uncovered.

"Um,-" throwing one end of the scarf over her shoulder "-I'm fine. Err, thanks for the concern, but I really need to go now."

And Elsa took off as quickly as she could. She didn't even take her umbrella, what with the lady calling after her and everything. Still, she sorely regretted this mistaking after stepping under the glare of the near-noon Sun.

Muttering curses as she unfolded her scarf, the girl tried to shield as much of her face as possible all while running out through the parking lot, then out to the nearby patch of greenery. She stopped when she reached the sign that read out the name of the café, complete with its promise to serve breakfast at 8am.

Elsa barely managed to let out breath before feeling a hand grab her shoulder and a cloth press over her face. Her eyes fluttered close and vaguely remembered her muscles turning loose. As for turning unconscious, well, she barely recalled that.

In fact, it turned out to be quite the surprise when she opened her eyes. She was in a completely different location now, lying down flat on something soft – a mattress. Her neck ached a bit, and her back muscle were stiff. She could feel something pressing on her scalp, so she reached up to remove it.

"Don't!" she heard a voice call out. "Otherwise, it'll all be for nothing."

Wanting to turn her head to see who it was that spoke, Elsa was startled to feel hands halting the motion.

"Wait," the person ordered. "Before you look at me, test out whether it works first." She felt one of her hands being picked up, and her finger brushed against the apparatus that sat on her head. It felt sharp, but not very heavy. "This is the thing you asked me to make for you. If it doesn't work, I'm gonna knock you again and try another prototype. Got that?"

Elsa nodded. She closed her eyes and searched her thoughts. She called his name in her mind, awaiting his answer. There was none.

She then opened her eyes, reaching for the ring on her hand. She reached for the ring on her hand. She ripped it off, threw it across the dark room and waited.

No explosion of anger. No overwhelming sense of darkness. No urge to get up and get it back. Her mind was very much alone.

"It worked," she said out loud, sighing in relief and gratefulness. It sliver of chance and she barely believed it, but somehow, it worked. "I can't feel him at all."

"Well, I hope that's a good thing."

It was only then that she turned to face him, and noticed the large purple helmet he was wearing, complete with opaque visor. "Why did you ask me not to look at you if you already covered your face up?"

"Just in case. You made it sound s serious." The boy flicked a latch on his helmet and the visor popped up, revealing his young countenance. He slipped the headgear off, shaking his unmistakably spiky hair. "With how specific your instructions got, I didn't want to risk botching everything."

Well, Elsa couldn't really blame him for erring on the side of caution. In fact, she was truly thankful that he chose to do anything at all, and told him as much.

Hiro just shrugged, helping her get to her feet. "Just wanted to help, that's all."

Elsa patted her hair, feeling the accessory sitting on her head. "What is this, anyway?"

"I'll show you. C'mon." Taking by the arm, he led her slowly out of the room.

After a few moment of her eyes adjust back to the light, Elsa noted they were back in the boy's work shop. It looked a little different from the last time she visited, with more knick-knacks sitting on the tables and more trash scattered around. But otherwise, the smell and general atmosphere hadn't changed much.

"Here." He brought her over to a stained, but relatively functional, mirror.

The first thing Elsa noticed was how much of a mess she looked. Her blouse and trousers were crumpled and dusty. The scarf around her neck looked a little ripped. Her hair was strewn everywhere, and somehow in that mess sat a gleaming circlet, which did not deserve to be there.

"You asked for something silver that would lined your whole head, so I just made-" the boy gestured to her head "-that thing. I thought it looked it bit a crown. Or tiara. Sort of."

Despite it being made in a short period of time, the headpiece that sat on her head was very elegant. The fact that the powers of silver extended to such was however the more amazing news. "It's lovely. Thank you so much, Hiro."

"Happy to help," he answered with a beam. Then, he frowned, "Okay, but seriously – what on Earth is going on?"

"I'll explain along the way, but we need to start working." She glanced around the work shop; it was hardly earthquake-proofed, and certainly not capable of withstanding an attack that. "He's been my mind several times, so he may know this place exists. He'll come looking for me once he realises what happened."

"Yeah, so… who are we talking about it?" The boy was understandably confused.

"A vampire. A very powerful, very angry vampire." She bit her lip. "He also might be technically be my husband."

~~~0~~~

 _Received —_

 _8:15am: Hey Kristoff_

 _8:48am: Kristoff_

 _9:24am: Kristoff_

 _10:00am: Kristoff, pls answer asap._

 _Sent –_

 _10:02am: Elsa?_

 _10:02am: Oh, hey Elsa! Slfr._

 _10:03am: Haven't heard from u since u got sick. How r u?_

 _Received –_

 _10:03am: No time now. Need ur help._

 _Sent –_

 _10.03am: ?_

 _10:03am: Ok?_

 _Received —_

 _10:04am: Kai hospital. Can Anna stay at ur home for now?_

 _Sent —_

 _10:05am: Who's Kai?_

 _10:05am: KAI. OH. OH MY. OH._

 _10:05am: KAI. That guy who_

 _10:06am: OH, man, so so sorry. I didn't know. How can I help._

 _10:07am: ?_

 _Received —_

 _10:08: ^[Received — 10:04am]_

 _Sent —_

 _10:10am: Oh, yeah. U alrd said._

 _10:10am: Ooops._

 _10:11am: Shld be k, but I'll ask my mum first._

 _10:13am: Texted her alrd. Waiting 4 answer_

 _10:13am: What abt u? U need 2 stay too?_

 _Received —_

 _10:14am: No thks. Got plans._

 _10:14am: After you find out, can u pick her up from home n drive her to ur home?_

 _10:14am: Asap?_

 _Sent—_

 _10:15am: What plans u got?_

 _10:15am: I was planning to do video-games w Sven this morning, but ok._

 _10:15am: Does Anna play too?_

 _Received —_

 _10:16am: Just pick up her as soon as u can. Don't let her stay at our house._

 _Sent—_

 _10:19am: Err, ok._

 _10:20am: U sure u don't want 2 stay over too?_

 _11:13am: Mum says ok._

 _11:13am: She says u can come stay w us too if u want. The sofa can open up into a queen bed._

Received —

 _11:14am: It's ok. I've other … arrangements_.

 _Sent —_

 _11:15am: Well, if you're sure_

 _11:15am: I'll go get her now_

 _11:25am: Um, Elsa? U didn't tell Anna_

 _11:25am: About staying at my place_

 _11:26am: Elsa?_

 _11:28am: Elsa?_

 _11:31am: Elsa, what's going on?_

 _11:45am: ?_

"SHE TOLD YOU?"

Kristoff shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

The brunette tried to scroll down on the phone screen, but refreshing the page apparently did not yield any new results. Pouting, she handed the phone back to him.

"Why didn't she tell me anything? Also-" Anna scrunched her nose up "-why ask for your help at all? It's not like we're ten. We're old enough to take care of ourselves till Kai gets better."

The boy just shrugged again. "I seriously don't know. Maybe she has a reason for doing this that we don't know about."

"Well, why wouldn't she tell us?" the girl hissed, flinging her hands up in frustration. The duffel bag sitting on her bed was no fuller than it had been two minutes ago, lying limp next to the clothes that Anna had thrown there. "Especially – why not tell me? Why tell you?" She pulled an incredulous face. "AND she using abbreviations? _Since when_ does she used abbreviations?"

Kristoff shrugged once more, wondering privately if this much shrugging could build any muscle. He rolled up the untouched clothes on the bed and stuffed them in the bag. If he didn't help out, he had a feeling they were never going to leave and Sven might very well beat his high-score on _Ice Heist 3_ – and Sven didn't even have hands.

"She was acting kind of strange the whole yesterday, but she was still okay. This morning though-" the girl shuddered "-she was in this ' _I'm-allergic-human-contact_ '-ish mood. She just told me to leave her alone." Anna frowned before sinking down onto her bed. "Do you think it's something to do with Jack?"

"Why do you always think it has to do Jack?" Kristoff scoffed, heading to the bathroom. He presumed Anna believed in dental hygiene, so he swiped the toothpaste and the two toothbrushes he saw by the sink, since he didn't know which was Anna's. He grabbed a hairbrush.

"I don't know. But somehow, all this weird stuff only started when he came into our lives. Would you believe Elsa started _sleepwalking_?"

By the time he returned to the bedroom, Anna was lying back on the bed, playing with some kind of metal ornament.

"She kept talking a man in black with a horse or something, but Kai and I have _never_ seen any such man. Also, Kai brought her to some doctor before he got into the accident." She suddenly sat up, her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, Kristoff. I think Elsa's gone mental."

"Okay." He found a ziplock for the toiletries and had them put inside. To be frank, he had no idea whether Anna was just making up all this stuff or she was really serious. But in all the time Kristoff knew of the elder Arendelle girl, Elsa always knew what she wanted to do and what she needed to do, no matter how she felt.

Maybe she was …'mental', as Anna had said, but maybe she recognised it. Maybe that's why she didn't want Anna around. Maybe she just wanted some space to think things out. Whatever it was, Kristoff respected Elsa enough to figure that she knew what's up with herself.

"Do you wanna pack any shoes?"

"Eh, the ones I have on are fine," was Anna's distracted voice. Her eyes fell to the small object she was playing with – it was a plain silver ring. "Hmm, she didn't wear this today. Funny. She's been wearing it for a while."

"Well, we can try calling her again after we reach my place," Kristoff said while zipping up the duffel bag, before throwing it over her shoulder. "Maybe then she'll tell us why."

"Maybe," Anna said doubtfully, still twisting the ring in her hand.

The boy stretched a hand out to her, which she accepted, and he hoisted her back to her feet. The two of them made their way down to the stairs of the empty house. Just before they exited though, Anna then said, "I think I'm gonna grab a pair of flip-flops just in case. You go start the car."

"Fine, fine." The boy waved her away while he headed out first. The bright sunny sky had abruptly transformed into a cloudy, grey one, with barely a speck of blue to be seen. It seemed that Burgess would see yet another storm.

Whipping out his keys, he headed over to the vehicle parked along the driveway and opened the boot. Tossing in the bag, the blocky lad suddenly felt an odd chill.

Spinning around, Kristoff surveyed the woods that flanked the house. Deeper under the shady green, he saw a horse, its hide as dark as night. Not far from it, he could make a thin figure standing near it.

"Got them, and my laptop too," he heard Anna's voice from behind him.

He glanced at her descending from the steps of the porch, then back at the forest. The figure and the horse were gone.

"Kristoff? You okay?"

"Yeah." His voice had a note of wariness though, even as he continued to scan the rest of the forest. There was no sign of anyone in it. "Yeah. Remember to lock up."

"Oh, yeah. Right." He heard the jingling of keys and the clicking of locks, followed by excited steps. "Alright, let's go."

As the two of them hopped into the car, Kristoff found that for all the shrugging he had done today, he couldn't quite shrug off the uneasy sensation creeping over him.

The sensation that something, or someone, was watching them.

~~~0~~~

 _Pato de Cabidela (by Tooth)_

 _What you need:_

 _1 cup of duck meat_

 _1 cup of ducks blood_

 _1 cup of duck stock_

 _1/2 cups red wine_

 _1/2 cup olive oil_

 _1 tablespoon butter_

 _1 tablespoon white wine vinegar_

 _Salt and pepper to taste_

 _1 tablespoon chopped parsley_

 _1 onions, chopped_

 _1 tablespoon tomato paste_

 _How to Prepare:_

 _1) In a bowl, season duck with salt and pepper to taste, tomato puree and red wine._

 _2) Leave the duck marinating in the refrigerator for about 2 hours._

 _3)Mix the blood with the vinegar in a bowl and stir well. Set it aside in the refrigerator._

 _4) In a saucepan heat the butter and olive oil with the chopped onions. Stir fry the onions until slightly browned._

 _5) When the onions are ready, then add the marinated duck. Cook it until it's browned._

 _6) Reduce the heat and add broth._

 _7) Cover the pot and simmer over low heat till meat becomes tender._

 _9) Add the blood mixture to the saucepan with the meat and bring to boil again._

 _10) Reduce the heat, then simmer for approximately 5 minutes on low heat._

 _10) Once done, garnish with the chopped parsley and serve while hot with boiled rice._

~~~0~~~

After Elinor had recounted all that she had seen – from the brutal murder she had witnessed by the detective to the troubled girl she had seen in the morning - her companion in the crimson dress fell quiet. Her slender, finely manicured fingers curled themselves around the ceramic cup before lifting it to her lips.

Eventually, the black-haired witch spoke, "It seems that the influence of _nosferatu_ is more widespread in this town than I expected."

"Right beneath my eyes, all these years." Elinor let out a large sigh while massaging her temple. "How could I not see it?"

"Your contentment with home life has made you complacent." Gothel was not one to mince words, it seemed. "You've been too long away from the arts. You're not as astute as you should be."

As much as the chide stung, she couldn't really fault the assessment. "I suppose I'm not," Elinor admitted, rubbing the beads around her wrist. She thought back to her daughter – her rebellious daughter, who insisted on embracing her heritage in witchcraft her own way. "I wonder if Merida knew."

"Perhaps she did." Her companion murmured as she set her cup back down. "Perhaps they silenced her."

She raised her brows. "' _They'_?"

Glancing about to check that there were no eavesdroppers, Gothel leaned herself forward, her dark curls just barely brushing over her steaming tea. "Just like you, I've been doing investigations of my own. Here-" from her long embroidered sleeve, she produced a yellowed photograph "-do you happen to know any of these people?"

Elinor took the fuzzy old photograph, its colour close to fading off in her hands. There five people in total in the pictures standing before to what appeared to be some European-styled building. She didn't recognise any of them, except … "That boy." She pointed at the figure in question. "The one with white hair. He was -" her voice quivered "-he was at the funeral."

Even with the poor quality of the image, the bright blue eyes, that nose, that jaw…

"Merida's body was found in his locker. I didn't think anything of it at the time but-" Elinor leaned back into her chair, brushing her brown locks with more strength than necessary.

"This photo was taken nearly thirty years ago in Berlin," the other woman added. There was something unsettling about her expression, something a little too bright about it – almost ecstatic.

But Elinor was still too much in shock to notice this. "He still looks exactly the same age."

All the implications started to fill her mind. From the vampire that had kidnapped Gothel's daughter, to Merida's horrible death, to the boy with white hair, to the vampire parading as an investigator. In her mind flashed all the curious news that had been popping up — some lady being murdered in her car; some girl being assaulted near her home.

"It was just one giant cover-up," Elinor whispered, utterly horrified. Some girl being attacked the street. "Vampires killing off innocents and hiding it. My poor Merida, she must have found out somehow."

Her companion nodded in what was supposed to be a sympathetic manner, but there was a little too much enthusiasm in it.

"We have to stop them – every last one of them." Elinor declared grimly. "A stake straight into every one of those defiled, detestable beasts."

"Yes, dearie, we really should, but we need to smart about this," Gothel put in softly, patting her hand. "They still have my daughter, after all. The last thing I want is for them to provoke them and - well, they might hurt her."

"Of course, of course." The brunette forced herself to take two deep breaths. As eager as she was for vengeance, a plan was needed first. Lookingto her companion, Elinor inquired, "What do you propose?"

The other witch beamed at her, as if she had been waiting for that question all along. "Well, here's what I think we should do."

~~~0~~~

Today would certainly be a day for the history books, if the history books ever acknowledged the existence either of their species.

But alas, history didn't, so that meant that there wouldn't be any harassed sixth graders pouring over the dates and the details of this grand day in the future. So, yeah, lucky them.

Speaking of history, Jack was pretty sure he possibly the most bored person ever after sitting through in this _awesome_ , _grand_ meeting.

"This is stupid," he murmured to the boy sitting next to him.

"Shut up," Hiccup hissed to him.

"Why are you asking me to shut up?" He used his cuffed wrist to gesture vaguely at the two tables that sat in the centre of the hall. "You should be asking them — they've been at for hours!"

Indeed, the grand hall of Berk has hosted its two negotiating parties for four hours now — not including the twelve hours clocked in from yesterday which had left everyone bitter and annoyed. At the start, the hall had been filled with curious onlookers, eager to see their own butt heads with their most despised enemies.

…Except that nowadays, even creatures of darkness preferred to do things the civilised way and that meant sitting down and talking — a lot.

So now, nearing the fifth hour of the second day, the crowd had trickled down to single digits, of which most of them were either the higher-ups in the clan or just there to take a nap. Jack himself would have loved to take a step outside while waiting for the discussion to end, but he couldn't, because both his feet and wrists were literally chained to the ground.

As for the rest of their Guardians, they were all still locked in fierce discussion with the four other representatives of Berk clan. Even though the outcome of this negotiation had much bearings over his fate, Jack found it increasingly difficult to care.

Twisting his neck towards his friend, who was in this case also his guard, the white-haired lad whispered, "I'm gonna take a snooze, okay?"

"What?" Hiccup said a little too loudly. Fortunately, the eight were still too engrossed in their debate o didn't notice. At a slightly softer volume, the brunette lad hissed, "You can't snooze in a negotiation. Your life is at stake here!"

"Yeah, yeah." Jack lay his head on the table between his linked hands, closing his eyes. "Wake me up when it's something important."

"Oh my Thor — Jack, can you _not_ for once?"

"Ssh, Hiccup. I'm trying to sleep."

"Oh, no, you don't."

He felt a jab against his ribs, but he just ignored it and continued closed his eyes. "Go away, Hiccup."

"They need you to talk, Jack."

"Nice try," the young vampire mumbled, turning his head as he tried to find a comfortable way to rest.

"I'm serious." The jab started to become more insistent. "Jack."

Lifting his head up and opening his eyes, the fellow in question was stunned to find that both sets of four had ceased their chatter and had now trained their gazes on him. "Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_ ," Hiccup grumbled under his breath.

"Mr. Jack F. Guardian," a rather muscular lady from the Berk Clan addressed him, "could you please recount to us what you were doing in Berkian territory under full-moonlight in this season?"

"Um." The boy licked his dry lips. It's been a day since he's drunken anything, and the clans people refuse to give him any blood. "I was looking for a friend."

The Berkian clan didn't look too impressed with his excuse. Each one of the Guardians just had pure incredulity scratched onto their mien – except for Bunny, of course. Bunny just rolled his eyes.

Feeling pressured to elaborate, Jack added, "Just thought that she might be in trouble. That's all."

"When you say 'friend'," a bearded guy with a hook for a hand inquired, "do you mean like an actual, platonic bestie, or like-" he made a weird-waggle with his bushy brow "-' _friend'_?"

"Gobber," came the firm reprimand.

"What? It's relevent."

"Gobber."

"Okay, okay." The hook-handed man rolled his eyes. "We'll do it your way."

The one who had rebuked him turned his own enormous form to the so-declared fugitive. He was a terrifyingly large man, with muscles as large as his face and a knotted beard with majesty that even surpassed North's own. Jack had met him once before, and he had never forgot how it felt to be in presence of Berk's chieftain.

His deep voice was like a crack in the silence of the hall. "What kind of trouble would distract you so much as to forget the treaty laws?"

Despite the way it was phrased, Jack sensed that the chief was not trying to slight him, but genuinely digging for information. Information that, by North not-so-subtly shaking his head, the Guardians did not want him to give.

So Jack pursed his lips and did not speak.

The chief's expression darkened, and his surrounding council were clearly displeased too.

"It's clear then that these blood-suckers are not being completely honest with us, Stoick." The spiteful-looking man seated by the table next to the stocky leader sneered in Jack's direction. "Who knows what other lies they might be feeding us?"

"Hold up, mate," Bunny interrupted, rising slightly from his seat. "Don't know if you've realised, but we don't take too kindly to the expression 'blood-suckers' when it's clearly what we _don't_ practice."

"Yes, yes, you all only feast on animal blood-" the bearded fellow let out a derisive snort "-or that's what you say. For all we know, you are the ones tearing up the folks in the news." He raised his shaggy brows pointedly, his words ending on a scornful note. "Just because we live down here doesn't mean we don't know what's going up there."

"Spitelout," the chief spoke the fellow's name sharply.

"How dare you accuse us!" Tooth had kicked her chair back at this point, all prepared for the challenge. "And without any evidence, too! Might I remind you that werewolves as a race has a murderous history, of which your clan is not spared of?"

"No," the female on the Berkian side answered hotly, emotions too stirred by all the aggression. "But at least we don't build syndicates upon the abduction and sale of humans - we respect our mortal pasts too much for that."

"Why you-" rolling her sleeves back, Tooth suddenly leapt across the tables. It took everyone quite a while to realise that she had tackled that the muscular Berkian lady to the ground and now there was a huge crater in the ground.

Everyone kind of just stared for a second, until the hooked hand guy swapped out his hook for a hammer. He swung it in the air and bellowed, "Fight!"

Tables went flying abruptly in the air as both parties just dropped all pretences of civility and negotiations just turned into a full out brawl.

The two boys front-seat to all the action did not leave their positions, both entirely flabbergasted by the unfolding scene. This was quite unexpected. And bizarre.

And _stupid_.

"This is stupid," Jack said. Forgive his lack of creativity in vocabulary, but he was still in shock.

Hiccup however wasn't really fazed. "I suppose it's still an improvement from the last several hours."

To that, the white-haired boy agreed.

Someone had kicked back one of the tables and it shattered against the wall. The other table was used by Sandy, of all people, the way one used a baseball bat against the now hammer-handed fellow. It didn't do much though, just showering the other guy with splinters. He just charged towards Sandy, yelling all the way through. The little vampire didn't seem to mind, cheerfully blocking the one-legged man's every strike.

"How many hours till night, you think?" Jack inquired, having to raise his voice slightly due the cacophony. The noise seemed to have attracted attention from those passing by, for the previously empty seats of the Great Hall were quickly being filled again.

Hiccup glanced down to his phone. "About an hour I guess. Three hours till moonlight probably."

"Hmmph." Jack rolled his wrists the best he could without moving the cuffs too much – the silver was making his skin uncomfortably numb. "You think your folks can last that long?"

The brunette boy made a non-committal noise. "If it was me in there, no. But since it's my dad and the finest warriors of Berk, this will not end till someone dies." The two of them duck simultaneously as a chair flies over them. It's smashed to smithereens on impact, barely missing the embossed emblem of Berk hanging behind them. "Just be glad that most dragons don't come underground. They'll probably melt the faces off from your people."

Jack quirked a brow. "You do know that vampires are fire-proof, right?"

"Well, dragon-fire is quite different, so it might. Who knows," Hiccup shrugged.

"In your dreams." The white-haired lad lolled his head back towards the foolish skirmish. "Should we stop them though?"

"Thanks for volunteering."

"Why me?"

"Because … this is all your fault?"

Jack chewed on his lip. He wasn't sure whether the Guardians had understood what he had after he had seen the vandalism over the cookbook. They mightn't have, because they had never sunken so low as to deal with the most dreaded figure in all of the history of the _nosferatu_ , the way he had once. Maybe they wouldn't have put the pieces together the way he had, given what he knew of Elsa's history.

What he was sure of, though, was that if he told a clan of werewolves that a vampire king was in town, they would rile themselves up in a frenzy. They would round up their forces, and they would hunt him down. Objectively, that wouldn't be a bad thing. Who knows – they might actually kill him, right? Some werewolves had been very successful in vampire slaying, given the feud and everything.

But in the process of enacting their form of social justice, there might be others who might be hurt in the process. Others, whose lives Jack was quite unwilling to risk.

Nonetheless, it would be unfair to leave the clan of Berk in the dark. He had no love for the Berkians, but Hiccup was a friend, and his people were just trying to protect their own.

So, the young vampire decided on a compromise. A partial truth. A part of the story.

Standing up, trying not to trip over all the chains clasped to him, Jack cleared his throat. "Ahem."

His throating-clearing went unnoticed, because pummelling another person's face was way more riveting than hearing what a teenaged-looking youth had to say.

Suddenly, a high-pitched howl pierced through the noise, rendering the entire hall abruptly silent. The members of the Berkian clan, caught mid-fight, had their ears perked up in interest. The members of the Guardians, also caught mid-fight, had their hands clapped over their ears.

Jack, visibly wincing from the after effect on his eardrum, turned to his still seated friend. "Warn me next time you do that."

"Your welcome." Hiccup leaned himself back in a chair, folding his arms.

Turning back to his now captive audience, the boy let out a sigh. "Okay, you guys should know the truth, because it probably affects you guys too."

Instead of telling them about the vampire king, he told them about Hans.

He told them how the assassin was an operative of the Van Helsing brotherhood. How he had tried to kill him. How he had tried to murder his friends to get to him, and succeeded with Merida (Jack didn't mention the witch part. Werewolves, much like vampire, had little fondness for witches.) He told of how Hans had raided Rapunzel's home – apparently, from the widened eyes of the Berkians, her reputation quite preceded her in Burgess – and stolen a laptop full of information (he also left out Eugene because…vampire). Information that included loads of patient data, of which a few probably belonged to individuals also amongst the Berkians.

"Basically, if he sends all this information back to the Van Helsings Headquarters, there wil be hunters swarming Burgess," Jack said. "Now, I'm sure you guys can probably protect yourselves pretty well, but…" he made a face "…with modern technology and sufficient numbers, they could probably wipe you guys out too."

"How dare you!" the sour-looking Berkian called Spitelout spat out. "You blood-sucking creatures think that we're lily-livered cowards like yo-"

"SHUT UP!" boomed several voices in unexpected unison, vampire and werewolf alike. For second everyone was just kind of puzzled by what had just occurred, and the Spitelout fellow just kind of looking white and very much subdued.

Then the Chief of berk asked North, "Is all this true?"

North, who had battered on and had been battering others on the head several times earlier, was still very much capable of comprehensible speech. So he answered, "If Jack says so, it's so. Also, this is the first time the rest of us are hearing it." He added the last sentence as an afterthought, which the rest of the Guardians nodded to.

The werewolves themselves appeared quite troubled by this bit of news, if their expression were anything to go by.

Finally, the Chief spoke up, "This new development is something we must discuss."

His statement was met by reluctant agreement, and very loud groans from the two boys.

~~~0~~~

 _Columbia Pepitoria (by Sandy)_

 _1 cup of goat blood_

 _1 cup of goat organs and goat tripe_

 _8 green onions, chopped_

 _2 tomatoes, chopped_

 _2 big onions, chopped_

 _1 tablespoon of pepper_

 _1/2 teaspoon of paprika_

 _1/2 teaspoon of cumin_

 _1 spoonful of achiote_

 _1 cup of flavourless oil_

 _1 tablespoon of Soy sauce_

 _Salt & Pepper to taste_

 _1 cup of cooked rice_

 _PREPARATION_

 _1) Wash all the organs and tripe thoroughly with water._

 _2)Add organs and tripe to a pot and cover with water. Set to boil._

 _3)Once boiling is done, remove them from water and chop them up finely._

 _4)In a pan, lightly fry the onions and tomatoes._

 _5)Add in all the spices and annatto._

 _6)Add the organs, the tripe and blood into the pan._

 _7)Stir for about 20minutes, before adding spoonfuls of rice into pan. Keep stirring and adding till all the rice is added._

 _8)Add soy sauce._

 _9)Serve w any fried meats._

~~~0~~~

He could hear music playing in the mansion, which meant that someone was home. Great.

Eugene rather hoped that it was the white-haired kid. He didn't trust any of the Guardians, but at least Jack didn't look at him like he was the scum of the Earth. Besides, if the information that he had obtained from Weselton Manor was reliable, the kid had a right to know.

Climbing off the ledge of the window that had been his entry point, Eugene quietly slid it shut again. Tucking the manila folder he had obtained from Weselton's house in his satchel, he slipped quietly down the corridor. Though it had been many years, the art of stealth from his thieving days still did remain with him.

His muted wandering around the mansion led him to realise that it was really quite empty. Well, though the dark overcast of sky said otherwise, it was only half-past four at the moment. Maybe they were out at work … on a weekend. Sure. That was entirely possible.

He found himself entering some kind of living room, which was weird because it was on the second floor. But okay, the Guardians were rich enough to own a mansion, so … sure, a living room on each floor – why not? The weird thing was that the current occupant of the room was not one of the Guardians.

That title, in fact, belonged to his wife.

Rapunzel, blazing sunbursts and infectious joy all wrapped in a single human body, was collapsed against the sofa like wilting flower. She was in exactly the same dress he had seen her in the day before, her wrapped braid looking a little unkempt than before. She was just staring at the whirling black record on a gramaphone's turntable, her eyes not even flitting back and forth.

Feeling almost as if he was intruding, Eugene rapped his knuckles against the door.

She jumped, her gaze flitting from the record player to him. "Oh, Eugene." Rapunzel brushed one of the loose strands from her face, offering a weak smile. "I didn't notice you there."

"Yeah, I figured when you-" he pulled an exaggeratedly comical version of her shocked expression. "You know."

The corners of her lips stretched a little wider now. "I did not look like that."

"You absolutely did," he insisted playfully as he sat himself next to her. From the horn of gramophone, a shrill aria bailed out over the mournful tones of the orchestra. "I thought you didn't like opera."

"I don't." She cast a rueful look towards the old-timey device.

Leaning forward, the blonde woman pulled on the lever of the tone arm and pressing the stop button. Removing the record, she replaced with yet another she had found – it appeared that the Guardians had stashed a whole of them here – and set it going. Aligning the tone arm along the large disc, a pleasant waltz now rang in the air.

An impish grin took the place of her weary one as Rapunzel made her way to him, hands held out.

Eugene was never quite one for dancing. But Rapunzel had. Once.

With her hands in his, she guided them out to the empty space that had once been occupied with furniture, and now was their dance floor. There was no real deliberate movement, no real thought behind it. It was just natural for his grip to shift to her waist and hers to rest on his shoulder. It was just natural for their feet to sweep across the dusty floors in perfect harmony, stepping exactly as they should without the slightest hesitation.

"You remember," Rapunzel whispered conspiratorially as if someone might overhear, "that time when there was that ball in some baronness' honour and she made you dance with her all night?"

Immediately, he groaned. "Oh, yes. It was horrible. That woman had absolutely no sense of rhythm."

"She was absolutely smitten with you." His wife only let out an unsympathetic giggle. "It was kind of hilarious, honestly."

"She was eighty-two! And I reminded her of her dead _son_."

"That's why it's hilarious."

"And you-" Eugene shook his head chidingly at her even as he helped her do a twirl "-you just left me there. Your poor, helpless fiancé."

She rolled her eyes mockingly. "Oh, please. Whatever happened to 'Flynn Rider' being the lady-magnet?"

"Well, as it happens,-" he dipped her back, making her let out a squeak "-the only lady I'm attracted to is right here."

The blonde beauty in his arms let out an amused snort. "Very smooth."

"I rather thought so myself." He smirked back, leaning down to kiss her.

His wife wrapped her arms around his neck, enthusiastically reciprocating his affection - which he had no objections to. Yet when they drew apart for a breath, the smile and the flush that he had hoped to earn quickly faded back into a grave, almost morose expression.

Frowning himself, Eugene set them both back upright, trying to meet her gaze. "What's wrong?"

She pursed her lips, then asked in a very small voice, "Have you ever regretted it?"

"Regretted what?"

"Staying. With me."

He tipped her chin up and his lips met hers. "Never." And again. "Not in-" and again "-the slightest."

But Rapunzel stopped him before he could lean in again, frowning. "Eugene, please. Don't-" she sighed "-don't try to protect my feelings."

"I mean it," he protested, covering her small hands with his large ones. They felt cold – and he was the one who wasn't alive. "Every word. I always do."

She broke from his hold, her face unreadable as she stepped back. Swiftly turning, she marched back to the couch, reaching for one of the many card-boxes that the Guardians' had left stashed around.

Except this one bore his own scrawling of _'Eloise'_.

His whole body tensed.

"You said that it was all gone - destroyed."

"I-I-"

"You told me that." She's aghast. No, confused. No, enraged. Or shocked. Or perhaps all of these. "Why would you lie about this?"

"I-" where was that silver tongue so ready to spin another tale, another excuse "-look, Blondie-"

" _Don't_ 'Blondie' me," she hissed with surprising venom. Her fingers digging into the sides of the box curl inwardly around the cardboard. "I wanted to know. It's not fair."

"Rapunzel-"

Even more distraught then before - "It's not fair. It's not just you, you know. _It's not fair_."

"Rapunzel-"

"Why don't I get to care?" she demanded, tear rolling down her cheeks. "Why don't I get to grieve? Or be frustrated? Or angry? It's not fair!"

"Rapunzel." He moved towards her, only in time to catch the box that came tumbling from her grip. "Sweetheart-"

"I'm a terrible person." Her voice was soft and horrifically cold. Her expression was drawn and worn. Her emerald eyes, sick with red, flick towards him. "You hate me."

"No, I don't. And you're not a terrible person." He laid the box aside carefully, suspicion stirred within him. "Rapunzel, when was your last dose?"

His wife looked at him as if he was crazy. "Dose? Of what?"

If his blood wasn't already freezing, it would be running cold right now. He mentally added the days from the time that they had first left their own home in Corona, and the numbers weren't good.

"Eugene," it's her turn to sound wary. "Eugene, what are you talking about?"

He grabbed her by the shoulder, ignoring her startled expression. "Think carefully. Did you leave this house? Do you remember seeing anyone? Doing anything?"

"What? Yes, I went out for groceries." She shook herself out his grip, but he didn't relent, his hand latching around her wrist. "Eugene!"

He was shouting. He was begging. "I need you to think! Have you just to any place unfamiliar? Or just noticed anything out of routine. "

"Eugene, you're scaring me." She was trying to pry his hold off, but even a woman as strong as she was not match for the iron strength of a vampire. "Let go!"

They should have never left Corona. Never left their quiet, comfortable existence. Never let their easy routines forgotten by the troubles and worries of people they should have never cared about her. But Rapunzel's heart was too soft. Too kind. Too fragile.

"Let go!" She was kicking against him now, not that it really did anything. "I'm serious, Eugene!"

He ignored her, dragging by the arm towards the cardboard box. His eyes searched for the vials that he had hurried stashed there whilst escaping their burning home. He had taken them just in case, not really thinking they would be used, since he had believed Rapunzel would have made more for herself automatically. Except she clearly hasn't been doing that, because she no longer remembered the routine.

He shouldn't have been surprised that the vials were nowhere to be seen.

"The first thing you did was get rid of them, wasn't it?" Eugene murmured with a mirthless chuckle.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," was her frustrated answer. She was using her free fist to hammer on him, quite uselessly. "Let. Me. Go."

He couldn't do that. In this state, who knew where she might run off to? She'd be all alone, left alone with her fraught emotions and her fragile heart. That left only one option – to buy some time.

"I'm sorry about this." He was.

Rapunzel, perplexed and terrified, didn't seem convinced. In fact, she was getting more agitated, trying all the more twist herself away from him. He could feel her pulse beating harder and faster against his palm.

In one smooth stroke, Eugene yanked her towards him and sank his fangs into her neck.

The scent of her fresh blood filled his nostrils immediately, all the more keen when he knew it was her. She writhed against him without avail, but the more he drank, the weaker her protests became.

It was a good thing he had recently fed. Her blood was far too pleasurable for him and it was nearly impossible for him to pull himself away. The feral part of him mocked him still for delighting the crimson marks that he had left on his mate, while the self-loathing part of him berated him for doing this - again.

Her green eyes were blank as she watched him tear a hole in his own flesh. Eugene wept and apologised to her over, and over, even as he guided her to drink from his own neck. His sweet pure wife, degraded to such by himself. He despised himself.

No, he despised _her_ – the one who made him do this.

Eugene had to forcefully drag Rapunzel away from himself, for the assault of her thoughts in his own head were coming in a little too strong. He hastily scanned her most recent memories, and he didn't like what he saw there – what he had felt there.

"I'm sorry," he told her through blood-stained lips, as his hands cupped her face. She didn't flinch, the way she would have normally. "I'll fix this. I promise."

Rapunzel – this empty shade of her, at least – nodded, as she dutifully lay herself down on the nearby couch, tucking her long yellow braid next to her before closing her eyes. Just like he had quietly instructed her in her mind, she was quickly asleep. Calm. Relaxed.

There's work to do, his logical brain told him. He knew how to make the drug himself – he had centuries to learn. The Guardians' house was huge and they experimented a lot with cooking – maybe they had all the right ingredients. He didn't know when they would be back, so he needed to get it made before they came back.

But he somehow found himself kneeling next to her instead, his hands reaching up to her now scarred neck.

She would heal the way she always did, and with that, the effects of his defilements would be gone. That was no excuse for his actions though. Yet, he didn't know what else he could do.

Eugene's gaze rested on the small cardboard box, the innocent little thing that had started this all.

For her, he had left behind his life of crime, straightened himself up and stepped into the role of husband and prince. He had become a good man, for her.

For her, he had left behind his life of wealth, debased himself and stepped into a darkness from which he couldn't never return. He had become a monster, for her.

Given a choice, he wouldn't have changed a thing.

Eugene kissed her knuckles, promising her sleeping form of his return. Just as he rose to his feet, however, his sharp ears caught the sound of the doorbell's chime.

~~~0~~~

 **So, this has been a weird chapter. It's weird a story.**

 **It's been a long time since I've posted anything. I didn't even get to do an April's Fool chapter this year (which I had managed to do the last few years). It's not that I don't want to, but it's an agonising process to get what's in my mind down into the computer. I realised that the issue with writing is like you've literally trading hours of your own life for seconds in an imaginary world. There are people that can write really fast, but sadly I'm not one of those people. With how busy I am in college right now (doing some kind of internship that is killing me), yeah…these fanfics may (actually…it has…) outlasted this fandom.**

 **On a side note, with fanfiction becoming published fiction becoming Hollywood films being all the rage today, I've been thinking about writing my own original fiction (I'm not gonna pretend I'll be able to finish all the fanfics I've started anymore – I'm too old for that). Out of all the fanfic stories that I've written so far, the one with the most potential for a conversion into an original is actually … this one. Of course, I can't just pull out all of the chapters and just change the names – The Immortal Haemovore's Cookbook was written specifically for this ROTBTFD fandom, thus removing it from its context renders it senseless. So this story would remain this story, and any future project…I'll probably write it from scratch.**

 **That's all I have for you guys today.**

 **Have a great Easter Weekend, and God bless!**


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